Seven
by Alice Indigo Opal
Summary: The Doctor revisits the Library, his wife's tomb. The trip brings back still-sore memories and questions. As he recalls, there should be six people trapped in the main computer, lost souls that died for a noble cause. Six individuals saved in the database forever. But according to CAL... there's seven. Rated T for occasional mild language and heartache. River/11 centric.
1. Chapter One

**Disclaimer: Doctor Who and all of its associated characters do not belong to me. No copyright infringement is intended in the publishing of this story. Thank you.**

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The Doctor steps out of the TARDIS, his hands in his pockets. He looks around and straightens his bowtie slowly. People going in every direction walk past him without a glance his way. He's content to keep it this way, as he did not come to this planet on the matter of alarm, nor business or pleasure. In fact, he is still not entirely sure why he had decided to come here at all. He had walked this path once before, though then it was with other people in tow. It has been a very long time since he had seen the large moon hanging in the blue sky of this cursedly beautiful world. The last time his TARDIS had brought him to the Library, Donna was with him, as well as… as… He pictures her face. He stops himself, closing the TARDIS door, hoping to leave his plaguing thoughts inside as he begins to wander away.

He was centuries younger then, though only in understanding. So naïve. Untrusting. On high alert. Much too bloody curious as well. He wished he could have valued that time as much as he valued every time after it that their timelines crossed... However, physically, even _he_ knew that he looked like a giant, disproportionate child about the age of eight. His more youthful self had no idea the importance of the events that occurred on this planet. Couldn't have known the impact they would have on his life and future. Realized too slowly, too late that he would regret his impatience.

The TARDIS had parked herself outside one particularly large building. The Library, in all its vastness, is all around him, and he gazes at the high towers that cover the planet. There are catwalks and overhangs, cantilevers and balconies above him, as well as many silver structural supports. He is outside, yet hundreds of people mill about everywhere, all with books stacked high, heavy bags with papers and ideas in progress slung over their shoulders, and even computer-brain data transfer devices stacked high in their arms. There are Nodes in many places, helping people. Always helping. All with the face of CAL and her benefactors, they teach the people about whatever they want to know: conflicts, conspiracies, plots throughout time and space, the geography of faraway planets, the Library itself, the universe… The Doctor smiles and stands a moment longer before heading towards a long staircase with a few sets of glass double-doors at the top.

He begins to ascend, staying near the edge and running his hand along the railing. At the peak, he steps into the building. The room he enters is paired with a memory of many years ago. _He can see the TARDIS parked on his right. There is a desk in front of him; a CAL Node stands in near it, trying to help him. He questions it with Donna Noble at his side. _Presently, he is shocked at the emotions that rage within him. He is sorry, filled with remorse. While many people sit at crowded wooden tables reading or lounging with wires running out of their ears contentedly, focused on their selected material, he stands with his mind buzzing. He closes his eyes tightly, then opens them, blinking. There is a computer kiosk in the corner of the room. _4022 saved, _he remembers, _No survivors._

He sighs and turns away, going through some delicately decorated doors into another room. It is larger than the former, and bowl-shaped. It is a lecture hall. No one is speaking currently, and it is widely used for quiet writing and reading, like the room before. The hall contains hundreds of rows of seats, some occupied by people seeking solitude, but most empty. At the base of the bowl that is the room are some chairs and tables. His eye is caught by one chair in particularly, vacant. It looms taller than the others and ominous, like an electric chair or a throne. He winces, remembering. _The room is dim; a skeleton wearing the shredded remains of a spacesuit sits in the chair. The scared voice of a lost acquaintance echoes through a green light on the collar of the suit. There is no consciousness behind the voice; it's a fading memory. Miss Evangelista. _The Doctor closes his eyes again, hoping to rid himself of the memories. He shakes his head and walks along the top row of chairs, the perimeter of the room, and exits through the first door he finds, aimless in his wandering. He glances regretfully as the door closes behind him.

He wishes to disappear. He strolls through the hallways of the large building, his mind in a state of uneasiness. There is an itch in his mind, not to be satisfied with him pushing it away again and again. Persistent. It is a painful reminder of the significance of the Library in his life. It guides him to the next room, the sharpest reminder of yet.

The ceiling is glass, high above him; the floor has patterns and designs. He remembers the circular platform beneath the large moon in the sky, this side of the planet turning to face the night, its occupants turning to face the… the…

The Doctor shivers. The Vashta Nerada are incredible creatures. Piranhas of darkness, they melt flesh and strip their prey down to the bone. In addition, they are intelligent and even reasonable at times. However, they were not the biggest threat to his existence that night. No people are in this room, he knows, but he glances around anyway. He then turns to the circular platform in the floor beneath the glass ceiling. He pulls his sonic out of his tweed jacket, hesitates. Thinks a moment. He looks at his screwdriver, holding it up. He had not yet been to Delirium with her, not yet given her his sonic. For now, he can think with hope and confidence that he will see her again.

On impulse, he bends down and sonics the platform (the sound it emits makes him shiver). He stands in the center as it begins to descend.

Is he ready for this? The main computer is just below him… He is not sure. He cannot predict his reaction. He is a man of self-reliance and buoyancy. Not always a dignified one, mind you, but obscenely confident in his own plans, especially lack thereof. But he doesn't know what to feel currently… He is terrified, to be honest. He is descending into his lover's grave, his wife's tomb. River Song… The Woman Who Killed the Doctor. He smiles despite himself. Cringes, shakes his head. He is afraid of what he will feel at the bottom of this unnerving descent.

The platform halts. The Doctor is grave as he walks stiffly towards the place where he was first handcuffed to a pole by River Song. He pauses here, smiling as he remembers the second time he was handcuffed to a pole by the knowledgeable Doctor Song… He sits, feeling oddly more at ease in this… coffin than he thinks he should. He looks around still somewhat solemnly despite his reminiscing, and his gaze rests on the main computer. He stares at it, thinking. Remembering. Hurting, mourning, lamenting.

After a time, he stands and walks to the large computer. He lifts his sonic to it and overrides the security, gaining access to the Library's personal records. He sifts through the information until he finds what he now knows he came for. The screen reads:

6,142 human beings present

7 saved

Seven saved.

Seven saved.

_Seven saved_…

He begins to count the people he lost that night. Proper Dave. Other Dave. Anita. Miss Evangelista. Charlotte, who is CAL… and River. But that makes only six. Who is the seventh? Did something happen between now and the last time he was here? It had been the first time, then… he was a different man. Literally. Somehow, less… _him. _What was different? River. He didn't know her then. She was a stranger to him, and he had broken her hearts. Not intentionally, of course. He wouldn't do that, not to anyone. Of course, she had known him quite well. Dreadfully well. His only crime had been his ignorance. _Or innocence_. He laughs to himself. Yes, he was a much different man now that he had spent some time in the TARDIS with Doctor Song…

But where had the seventh life form come from? There were seven… How could there be seven?

He needed to know.


	2. Chapter Two

**Author's note:**

**Welcome, Whovians! Thank you for the prompt and supportive reviews I received! Though it is only the second chapter, I am very honored that you have read this far. Or maybe you've started with the second chapter... In which case, you are quite unique. Nevertheless, please enjoy!**

**Oh, and please let me know if you find any mistakes or out-of-character-ness. I value grammar and accuracy very much, and I will gladly fix anything you find.**

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It's the seven hundred and eighty first day of her confinement. She knows they are only virtual days, lasting as long or short as she or the others wanted them to. It could be only a few day's time that's gone by outside the computer, or it could be a century. She would never know, she supposed. She only kept track of the days for the sake of sanity, but even (_especially_) acumen and good judgement were becoming more and more rare recently.

_I've broken out of one prison and into another,_ she thinks ruefully.

She smiles sadly as she watches her painfully imagined children run around the playground. Charlotte sits beside her on the bench. They both know the reality of their situation: the world they are trapped in is their prison, despite the fact that is doesn't even exist except for in the data bank of the Library's supercomputer.

River wanders what time it is. She is not wearing a watch, but as soon as the thought enters her head, one appears on her wrist. In this world, events are dreamlike, and things seem to appear whenever they're desired. It's ten minutes to eleven. At noon, she and Charlotte are to meet the others for tea. She thinks, _At least we're united in our confinement._

"Charlotte? Shall we go?" She speaks to the girl next to her.

The girl sighs. "… Yes. I suppose. Shame to leave such a lovely day." She looks at the sun in the sky, still making its way to center-stage. "But it is time, isn't it."

She takes River's hand, and they are suddenly in their home. Of course, there's no difference between their house and anyone else's. Both of the Daves, Miss Evangelista, Anita... The monotony is almost painful. No, definitely painful. Excruciating. River, ever the woman of adventure, loathes the invariability. None of them can classify as one's _home,_ exactly, either, as there is no uniqueness, no differences between any of the houses. They are simply dwellings, nothing more. Each is a replica of the one before.

But River doesn't think those thoughts; she put them out of her head ages and ages ago. She purposely chooses not to notice. It is a combination of these small things that make her hearts ache: the sameness of the pretend children, the uniformity of each and every house, the symmetry of the world itself… It's as if everything in this goddamned computer is simply there to mock her, to point out how poorly she dealt with such noninvasive things. She could choose to be happy. She really could. But she refused, as accepting this world as her reality would be to give up on the Doctor, Amy, Rory… and herself. She has wished an innumerable amount of times for her life (or, possibly and simply, her _existence_, as she is not quite sure if she, or any of the other five here, is actually alive) to not be quite so miserable.

And so, she exists in feigned ignorance.

Later, the two (River and Charlotte) meet with the other four over tea. The room they are in is one that they all have in their own houses: a tea room. This one's in River's house, but they are all familiar with it: pale baby blue walls and boring grey carpet with a white ceiling. A small table is what they gather around, sitting in chairs. There is little conversation, but companionable ease fills the small space. The meetings of the six have become less and less frequent as of late, having dwindled to simply "every now and then," rather than specifically "every other day" or "once a week." She can see more and more the despair in their faces every time they met, and it dismays her. She knows that they can see it in her own face, as well. Few words are exchanged as they pass around the bowl of sugar. River watches her friends as they drink their tea, hers left untouched for the moment on the table in front of her. She counts them, looking at them each with thankfulness in her eyes. She starts with Charlotte, who is on her left. Anita. Other Dave. Proper Dave. Miss Evangelista. Herself. Just six in all. _The gang's all here_, she thinks.

The air is calm when a visible wave of immense energy passes over the room. The atmosphere pulses for a moment or two with intensity. It soon disperses, leaving the members of the table confused. Other Dave, who was previously reclined, leans forward and furrows his brow. Anita purses her lips and raises an eyebrow. The group looks to one another for an explanation, then direct their gazes specifically to River. She sits in shock, much too familiar with the strange occurrence. She would know that odd pulse of energy anywhere. It has flowed through her own body many times in her past, though it was usually accompanied with a funny _whirring _noise.

An image flashes in her mind, lasting a only second: a ridiculous man with his hair flopping over his right eye smiles down at her, asking, "So, when are we, Doctor Song?" as coolly as can while he straightens his bowtie.

Yes, she would know the feeling of sonic energy anywhere.

It's the Doctor's screwdriver.


	3. Chapter Three

A tall, lanky man in a tweed jacket pushes his way through the crowd. There is a line of people at an information kiosk. He looks at the front longingly, then frowns and stomps to the of the line. He stands a moment, sulking, looking very impatient, and moreso every second. After not a full minute has passed, he begins to bounce around on his toes, straining to see the front of the line, where an older man is taking a painfully long time to find the information he needs in the database. Why he doesn't just go ask a Node for help is beyond everyone behind him the line, for it seems he needs something more in-depth than the information the computer can provide him with.

The long-limbed man at the end now jumps up and down, clearly unaccustomed to standing in lines. He removes his tweed and lays it over one arm gently, revealing a white buttoned up shirt with braces looping his shoulders.

_What an odd man. Impatient, too. _Barbara Lark is sitting at a table watching what she predicts to be mayhem unfold slowly. She is supposed to be studying, actually, but her upcoming test on the Second Luleraine System is less interesting by far compared to this peculiar man. He is now fiddling with a dark blue bowtie that sits on his clavicle. What strange dress for a visit to the Library…

He now leaves the back of line with a concerned expression wrinkling his forehead, which is mostly hidden by a mess of brown hair sweeping down over his right eye. He hurries to the front. Barbara is shocked at the stranger's rudeness. _That lowly rat… _No, he wouldn't just cut in front of all those people… There must be at least twelve. But the gangly man is soon talking to the flustered gentleman that's holding up the line at the computer. He waves his large hands about in vague gestures as he speaks; no doubt asking what it is exactly the older man is searching so dedicatedly for… something she is interested in as well.

Barbara is curious about the man in braces… She finds him much more fascinating that the quiz she is studying for. She closes her book, throws it into her satchel, and looks around at the other people at her table, as if they'll give her disapproving looks for what she's about to do. She plans to eavesdrop on the pair of men as they talk.

She leaves without disturbing their peace and relocates to a table that's closer to the kiosk. She lifts her book, _The Galaxy Luleraine Before its Fall,_ pretending to be reading quietly, as she was before. She peers over the pages at the men. Both are looking in confusion at the computer screen. Many people behind them have begun to grumble mildly. Some leave in hopes of finding a kiosk that's less crowded.

She can hear the men now:

"A moment, please," The younger man puts has put his tweed jacket back on, though he rolls up the sleeves as he speaks.

"No, I'm fine. Just fine. I've almost found the book. I know the author's first name and the subject, but that seems to be all I can remember about it…" The man appears to be content to search singularly.

"Would you allow me to help? There's an awfully long line that's formed behind you." The man in the bowtie glances back nervously. Someone in line grunts.

The gentleman doesn't respond for a moment. "Help if you must. But I must have precisely the right one. The author's written quite a great lot of books; it's difficult to find the correct one…"

"You haven't written it down, have you? I often write notes to myself when I need to remember something and tape them to the steering wheel of my… my automobile. Short things, really, nothing of much importance. 'Buy more bananas,' and such. 'Crochet lesson changed to four-thirty.' 'Water carnivorous shrub before planting it.' 'Pick up ocarina from…'" He trails off, looking off into the distance with his mouth hanging open. "Oh. Seems I've forgotten where. Hm."

Barbara Lark smiles. She fingers the note she left herself just this morning her favorite notebook. 'Study Luleraine for Thursday's quiz.'

"Interesting," (the older man appears to be much less than interested), "but I haven't got it written down. I've typed the first name into the computer, but can't seem to find the right volume."

"Ah." The tall man looks at him again. "Well. I'm very good at finding things. I know quite a lot about quite a lot, actually. Consider me your tour guide!" He grins and whips out a silver object that looks akin to a magic wand. He tilts his head, smiling ridiculously. He points his magic wand at the computer, producing a _whirring_ noise.

The lanky man peers intently at the kiosk, wrinkling his forehead up as he seems to scan through the computer's files. He now looks concerned, and though Barbara cannot see the screen, she becomes worried as well. He holds the magic wand in both hands as if for leverage, and the pitch of the _whirring_ rises and falls in frequency.

"Almost there," he whispers almost too quietly for Barbara to hear.

"Ah!" the man in tweed exclaims. "There we are."

The gentleman's irritation with the younger man rises visibly when he looks at the screen. He clenches his fists, and the man in tweed seems to not notice. "Sir—"

"Not 'Sir,' please, just 'Doctor,'" he mutters quickly.

"Doctor."

"Yes?" He turns to the gentleman happily with a wave of his hands.

"My book."

"Your book…"

"My book! The bloody novel! You haven't even asked for the author's name!"

But the 'Doctor' has already refocused on the computer screen.

It is at this point that Barbara decides she _must_ see what's on the screen. She slides out of her seat and sneaks around the two quietly, inching closer. She tries to blend in with the grumpy crowd of people now watching the pair communicate. She squints. The screen reads:

6, 385 human beings present

7 saved

"It's progress. Progress," the man in tweed mutters, forgetting for the moment about the poor old man trying to find one book in the possibly millions of the Library. The Doctor spends a moment looking sadly at the data. It's a deep sadness, Barbara can tell, unharbored and vast, like an ocean.

"That's not what I need!" the frustrated man points out, snapping the Doctor's attention back to him. "What sort of damned tour guide are you?"

"I'm a brilliant one. You should see me in museums, really, I'm quite the expert. On everything, actually. Not even boasting, it's just fact. And it's not what you needed? That's odd. Maybe the Library hasn't got it, then. I suggest talking with a Node. They're quite helpful, rightly. And kind. I speak from experience! But don't be frightened by them, though, it's not even real skin speaking to you. Donors, on the contrary, just facial structures." He purses his lips and tilts heads head. "Er... Mostly." With that, he turns to the crowd. "Excuse me."

The gentleman, his back to Barbara, grabs his arm before he can hurry off. "Wait." He turns the Doctor to face him, holding him by the shoulders now. His eyes narrow. "Doctor… Who?"

The bowtied man's eyebrows bounce up and back down in response. He seems satisfied with himself. Barbara Lark is shocked when his gaze shifts from the older man's eyes to her own. He smiles, winks, and disappears into the thick crowd of people gathered around the kiosk without answering.

Barbara is stunned. He knew she was spying! She covers her mouth, which is hanging open, with her hand. He must be a brilliant man indeed to upset an old man and keep an eye on her at the same time. She is tempted to follow him, but she feels like she's seen enough already. But she wants to know where he is going.

She can see him still across the room. He pauses at the door, whips around. He rushes back to the older man, and this time it's The Doctor seizing the gentleman by the shoulders, a hopeful, pleading look in his eyes, and says, "By the way, you haven't happened to have seen a big blue box around here, have you? I seem to have forgotten where I put it… Bit of a maze in here, yeah? Sort of lost at the moment…" He laughs. "Would have been a good time to write down where I parked her and tape it to the console, actually." He begins to trail off again, his eyes sliding away from the stunned man's face. "Wouldn't matter now anyway if I had, would it?" He laughs, again looking at the disgruntled man.

The man shakes his head in further annoyance. "Haven't seen it," he says gruffly.

The Doctor nods, seeming not to notice the man's irritation, and darts through a set of doors nearby, leaving Barbara Lark wondering what it was that she just witnessed.


	4. Chapter Four

_Right, then._

Seven.

Seven saved.

There are seven people saved in the computer, and not just the main one. The small kiosk, a branch of the database, revealed the same thing that the main computer had, confirming The Doctor's reservations: seven saved, regardless of how many people were present in the Library.

His initial reaction is to panic—assume that the computer has contracted a ( possibly quite literal) virus and begin to imagine the terror and havoc it's wreaking within. It could be ripping apart the souls of the trapped people that are saved in the database.

Being "saved" and being "safe" are two very different things indeed.

But to _panic_ is the human reaction.

His thoughts take a more logical, more "Time Lord," stance. Someone could have died at the Library and CAL would have saved them as well. A medical emergency, perhaps? But that couldn't be. New Earth is just a few hundred thousand kilometers away from the Library, orbiting the same star. The hospital there is home to some of the most advanced medicine in the universe. In addition to the incredibly fast ambulance ships of this era, the Library's exporting and importing teleports are now working properly and quite well. One needs only to pull the correct levers to be transported to a different planet, even a different galaxy… There would be no reason for a medical emergency to end tragically here rather than at the hospital in New-New York, or anywhere else, for that matter.

The Doctor thinks of other logical scenarios as he roams around the vast Library looking for the TARDIS, striking the ideas through in his head one by one. After a while of this, The Doctor runs out of hallways, rooms, and theories to pick his way through, and it seems as if the seventh being confined in the database is truly… impossible.

He spots the TARDIS through a large, decorated window, still sitting at the bottom of the incredibly long staircase he had climbed earlier. He passes through more rooms and hallways and exits the building. As he begins to descend the immensely long set of concrete stairs, he thinks, _What goes up must come down, _with a chuckle and a small grin.

After a long walk, The Doctor jumps down the last four steps, slightly out of breath. He jogs to the TARDIS, which appears to be untouched.

And what of the girl? She had originally been reading, though not very diligently, he could tell. That is, she was reading before he had caused the small disturbance at the kiosk, catching her attention. _The Galaxy Luleraine Before its Fall_, the book had been. He decides that she had been studying. She is a student. She must be in… college. Obviously not majoring in spying or other military tactics, for he had easily recognised the classic, telltale mistakes of an inexperienced spy: moving closer casually to hear better (a good spy can lip-read from a distance), peeking over her book casually (army-issued x-ray goggles would have been a quick fix)…

But he had been a good sport about it. He allowed her to hear the conversation. Eavesdrop, even. Then he had winked at her and popped off the find the TARDIS.

As for that poor old gentleman… The Doctor definitely could have been more helpful and patient with him. He regrets his intolerance. He had almost surprised himself with his own terseness. He honestly wanted to help at first, but he got lost in his own desires and need for answers about the seventh being in the database.

Currently, he arrives at the TARDIS, throwing open the doors and stepping inside. He smiles at the console and begins to adjust the door lock mechanism, press keys on the typewriter, power up the atom accelerator, and tune other random knobs and levers. Soon, the classic, familiar sound of the TARDIS dematerialising fills the spaceship.

"Alright," he says aloud, speaking to himself. "A plan, a plan, what's the plan… How to fix the problem." Now that the TARDIS is traveling through the time vortex safely, he begins to pick apart his situation. "Okay. Think. State the problem."

He sits down on the floor of the console room and puts his head in his hands, thinking. The conciousnesses of River and the five others are stuck in the datacore of a supercomputer on the universe's largest library, _the _Library. But there is a seventh being as well… unknown to him in species or origin. It can be incredibly dangerous or perfectly harmless to the inhabitants of the computer. He has no way of knowing. From the outside perspective, that is.

Upload himself! That's it! Or he could at least teleport there with the TARDIS or vortex manipulators. The solution is to get into the computer (well-prepared, of course) and find out for himself what had invaded the database. Oh, he is _brilliant!_

But… since when does The Doctor make plans? It's more his style to rush into whatever situation has arisen and hope for the best. So why is he making plans?

He's been traveling alone for far too long, he decides. All the more reason to find a way to free River Song.

He smiles as he remembers fondly the image of River Song piloting the TARDIS, much more professionally than he ever does, a serious expression on her face. She would smile as pressed the (blue) gyroscopic stabiliser button and give him a smug look as she pulled the lever that took the brakes off.

He would simply respond with a smile and say, "Cheeky."

He loved it when River flew the TARDIS. He found it incredibly sexy, actually, and it usually somehow ended with the two of them forgetting their destination entirely and snogging on the console until River (it was never The Doctor) came to her senses and broke them apart, reminding them of the planet or race that needed to be saved.

A crash breaks The Doctor from his reverie. The TARDIS shakes and the lights waver as she tries to make an emergency landing, but it appears to be too difficult for her to do alone. The Doctor leaps to his feet, but smoke pours from the console, throwing sparks everywhere. He dives in, pulling levers and pushing buttons. "Come on, you damned sexy thing!" he shouts as he grabs hold of the railing for support. The TARDIS lights dim measurably as the battle continures.

Did something hit them?

After a struggle between the TARDIS and Doctor and whatever they had flown into, the TARDIS lands on solid ground.

The Doctor is slightly winded by the time the shaking and shuddering stops. He peeks outside the blue doors cautiously, trusting that the oxygen membrane is still intact.

They appear to have landed on a meteorite, or maybe a moon. Craters dot the surface of the bland scape before him. They seem to be moving very quickly, whizzing through black space, and there are other floating bits of rock and grey debris, most much smaller, traveling alongside them.

The Doctor smiles, closing the TARDIS doors as he pulls his head inside. He wonders why he is here… The TARDIS never takes him somewhere he is unneeded when there could be a whole world out there where he is.

He was actually trying to reach the blue Dorium Maldovar, former headless monk, current bodiless head. The doctor was hoping to purchase vortex manipulators not unlike River's from him. But here he is, on a strange piece of rock, floating through space…

What could be out there? On this… moon, he supposes… Maybe Dorium is running his black market from here now.

There's only one way to find out.

The Doctor hooks his thumbs through his braces and starts off into the labyrinth of the TARDIS to find his favorite red-orange spacesuit.

After all, when danger knocks on those dark blue doors, The Doctor is always the first to answer.


	5. Chapter Five

**Author's note:**

**Thank you, my marvelous readers! I value your support immensely and would like to personally thank anyone who has reviewed, followed, and favourited this story. You know who you are!**

**Also: I hereby solemnly swear upon David Tennant's red Converse sneakers that I will never let more than a week go by without updating. _Please_ hold me to that.**

**Thank you again!**

* * *

The group stares at River with wide eyes.

"Professor?" Proper Dave says cautiously. "You recognise it. You know, don't you? What it is, I mean. You know the sound."

River presses her lips together.

"What is it, Song?" Other Dave chimes in.

She looks each one in the eye in turn. "It's…" She avoids saying 'The Doctor,' not wanting to lead them in jumping to conclusions. "A sonic device."

The group is silent for a moment. They all know what she had meant to say.

"River?" It is Charlotte who next breaks the quiet. "What does that mean? Doesn't The Doc—"

"It means nothing, "River says sharply. "Sonic devices have been developed by many races. It could be an enemy." She tries to keep her friends from getting their hopes up, but inside, River Song is doing something she hasn't done in a very long time: hoping. It's dangerous, she knows, to imagine freedom, to wish for her rescue… But she can't help but envision her marvelous idiot peering at the computer screen, thinking of a way to release the five from their prison, the computer.

No. Enough.

She can't allow herself to think like that. To hope. Of course, he waltzes around saving worlds as if nothing can touch him, invincible in every sense of the word. He could make you believe anything is possible with that crooked grin of his…

But it's too painful to even pretend that there's a way for him to rescue them. She must keep her companions' thoughts from traveling that dangerous path as well as her own.

She can see him even now, after so long imprisoned. He is a king in his castle in his TARDIS. He flies it completely wrong, insisting that it's the "best way there is." It's very hazardous, even stupidly so at times, but he can't change his ways for anything.

"Professor Song?" Miss Evangelista speaks now. "What if… He means to prepare us? If it's a signal?"

River starts to shake her head.

Before she can say anything, Proper Dave adds, "Yeah, he could be hooking us up to some sort of transfer device right now. The Doctor could be planning to download us. D'you think we should… I dunno, pack our things?"

Other Dave laughs bitterly, sitting back in his seat. "Shall I get my suitcase, Dave? Or leave it for the bellhop? Oh, and I'll call a cabbie!" He larks again. His jokes are morbid, and his voice inches closer to hysterity.

Charlotte looks at her companions somberly. Sadly.

Noticing the girl's disquiet, River stops Other Dave from torturing Proper Dave any further with his spiteful pokes. "Enough," she says. River values her role of leadership within the group, and they look to her yet again. "We are to take no note of it," she tells them sternly. "If he means to save us, then he by God will, but we mustn't go insane with anticipation," she explains. She lowers her brow. "We cannot allow what may or may not be in the future to drive us mad. It will be our downfall if we do. All of you listen to me: we mustn't wait for him or anyone else to come prancing to our rescue, and that is the final word on the matter."

Many of them look down at their tea, now clasped tightly in their hands. They understand the role logic rather than hope plays in the stability of their sanity.

River notes Charlotte's terribly dismal demeanor. She is a child years beyond her time in understanding. She is, after all, the living consciousness of an Eternal Triggature Level 9, Type 6-B supercomputer mainframe. She's seen plenty in the Library in her head.

River hides nothing from her. Back in the earlier days of their meetings over tea, when there was more conversation, there was no "adult talk" and "child's talk." There was simply "talk." Chatter. They all know that Charlotte is not simply a small girl no less than ten years old, though she surely looks it to them. Her mind is older than most of theirs. And it is oftentimes so very lonely…

River knows better than most how solitude can age a person's mind.

Loneliness and humans are not compatible. Such isolation can tear a soul apart, strip it and torture the mind to the point of raving madness. Yet Charlotte (CAL, rather) has proved to be perfectly sound of mind, and still so young.

Then, it had been suddenly so very overcrowded within the computer. This, of course, can be as unbearable and maddening as seclusion.

Besides, no one should be forced to live in ignorance simply because they're young. Why, if River Song had a child (a real one, not virtual ones like her darling Josh and Ella), she would tell it stories of the evil, wicked things in this universe as well as others as well as the pure and marvelous things. Bed time stories, probably.

"Right. Professor Song, we understand our situation. I do believe it is time for out dismissal," Proper Dave says, now somber. "Anything else to add? Anyone?"

Anita leans forward, a serious expression on her face. "If we are not to hope, what reason have we not to dread? You said it yourself, Song. Plenty of evil beings have sonic devices. We could all be in danger."

River is prepared for this question. "Just as they have nothing to attack except our minds, we have nothing with which to defend ourselves but our own conciousnesses. That is our only and greatest weapon. Think what you wish, but realize the danger and futility. Let the matter lie. As I said before, I will not speak of this again for the sake of my own sanity as well as all of yours." She sets her cup of tea down, nothing left in it but cold, greenish water with a few floating bits of debris it. She looks around the table. "The meeting is dismissed."


	6. Chapter Six

Having donned his scarlet spacesuit, The Doctor stands just outside the TARDIS's oxygen membrane on the asteroid, marveling at the grey rock formations on the surface. He begins to walk, looking for whatever it is the TARDIS sent him to find.

It is not long before he can see a large dome in the distance, lights inside it as well as short buildings. As he nears, it becomes apparent that there is intelligent life held within.

A town?

A city?

He can see streets lined with structures, huts and stalls. Creatures mill about within.

It's a marketplace, he decides.

Few creatures are of recognizable species to The Doctor. He approaches the dome, touches it through his gloves. It appears to be Galactic Everglass, unshatterable and durable, used on spaceships and in glass biodomes. He presses his palms to it.

To his left is an entrance chamber; he beams at the dual-chamber access corridor. He will be strolling through the streets of the marketplace in no time.

After knocking on the reinforced iron door, he holds his hands behind his back, peering around. The door opens, and he enters the first chamber. "Time Lord," he says with a smile.

After a pause, a computerized female voice responds, "The atmosphere of the MOTIA 6-R is suitable for your species. You may now remove your uniform and breathing apparati and enter the next chamber. You are subject to a brief decontamination, and then you may enjoy your stay."

Another iron door opens at the other end of the small room. The Doctor removes his red-orange suit (he has his favourite tweeds on underneath) and passes through it, preparing himself for the worst. The walls of the room are lined with nozzles. A water solution is blasted from every direction at him. A second later, it shuts off and is replaced with jets of hot air, drying his clothes and hair quickly. When he is dry again, The Doctor straightens his bowtie and the voice says, "Please enjoy your stay on the Marketplace of the Intergalactic Alliance's Sixth Type-R moon." With that, a final door opens and The Doctor enters the Marketplace.

* * *

The Doctor tucks his helmet under his arm and throws his suit over his shoulder as he walks through the streets. He tastes the air. It's artificial, but he can tell that he's on an asteroid amidst the Migrating Sheffield Belt.

He peers at a Silurian standing behind a counter. She gestures for him to come closer. "Thought you looked like you could use a solar battery, sir," she says when The Doctor is near.

"Um, no, not really, just looking for a man, thank you... And just The Doctor, not sir, please."

"Don't be silly. I saw you eyeing my wares." She gestures to the batteries laid out of the table.

The Doctor is uncomfortable. "I haven't interest in solar batteries, nothing to charge... You haven't seen Dorium, have you?"

"Ridiculous." She ignores his question regarding the blue man. "Every traveler needs rechargeable batteries. These are top-of-the-line, handmade. Two IMUs and it's yours."

"Sorry, but what I really need is to find my associate. You see, he's lost his head, quite literally. Or rather, he's lost his body, actually." The Doctor laughs. "The last I saw him, he was locked away in the Seventh Transept."

The Silurian woman scowls. "Haven't seen him, sir."  
The Doctor clenches his jaw and turns to leave.  
"Wait." He turns his head, pausing to listen. "You said to call you The Doctor." He smiles. "But Doctor who?"  
"Exactly."

* * *

It is some time later that The Doctor spots a curiously blue man milling about in a stall further down the path. He quickens his when he realizes that, even more curiously, the body has no head attached to its neck.

When he nears, the round, headless body does not notice his approach (for obvious reasons), especially as he is currently busying himself with rearranging his wares. As far as The Doctor can tell, they are waffle irons… Although, none know better than him that there is usually much more to things than meets the eye. Not directly, at least.

Knowing it would be futile to bother the body with questions, The Doctor lets himself inside the booth, slipping down a deep purple hallway in the tent that is set up behind the stall.

Entering a room, The Doctor smiles at Dorium's bodiless head, which is resting in the box it so often frequents. He is snoring softly, sleeping.

The Doctor crouches down, leveling his face with the blue man's. Not know what else to do, he says, "Ah… Dorium?" doing his best not to appear as rude.

The azure face is unresponsive.

The Doctor tries again. "Dorium Maldovar!" he whispers. Dorium's nose twitches slightly at this. _"Dorium!" _The Doctor's limited patience runs out at that moment.

Dorium snorts and blinks himself awake, shifting his eyes this way and that, no doubt wishing for a neck to turn his lonely head with. His eyes focus on The Doctor's face. "Doctor! Gave me quite a scare just now! Hello! God, you haven't changed a bit, have you? Same face, I see. Though, I, too, have the same face." He laughs. "Quite surprised, actually. You've been quite reckless, lately. Honestly. I heard on the streets here that you died. Thought to myself: No, not the old Doc, eh? Reckless, but not unprepared. Shot by and astronaut! Ha ha! Risen from a lake. Blimey, what a story that was."

"Dorium Maldovar! Hello! I'd hug you right now, but… Oh, you know. I did meet your body out front, though. Well, not really. I saw him, he didn't see me. We didn't speak a word, but _something_ told me I'd find you nearby," he says with a wink. They both laugh. "So he runs your business while you sit in here doing... What? Handing out prophesies? Sleeping?"

"Actually, Doctor," he lowers his voice, "I've picked up my underground market again. I've abandoned the bar, but business is brilliant so far. It's very hush-hush, mind you."

This is what The Doctor was hoping to hear. "Ah, I see. And, uh, what sort of things are circulating in this underground market, might I ask?"

"Looking for something in particular, Doctor? Or just being nosy?"

"You see, I've come in search of something that may or may not be 'approved of' by the Shadow Proclamation's Acceptable Travel in Space and Time Division… I was hoping you could give me a _hand._" He winks again and grins at his own joke.

Dorium chuckles. "For The Doctor? Of course. One prophetic old man to the other, eh? You are a god, even if entire universes no longer know of you existence." He smiles. " What is it you're after, Doctor?" he whispers. "I've got multidimensional pogo sticks, space acceleration vehicles, some sneakers dipped in black matter that you might be interested in…"

The Doctor considers these a moment (some of them seem legitimately interesting), then shakes his head. "Actually, I was looking more for something traditional…" he looks away, putting on his best businessman act, "something you might be familiar with." His eyes slide back to Dorium. "Vortex Manipulator," he whispers.

Dorium's eyes widen. "Ah, well. That can be arranged, friend. You do understand the risks, I assume?"

Now The Doctor chuckles, forgetting the act. "Dorium, please." He raises an eyebrow. "I married one of them."

They both laugh.

"Go to my body. Tap his shoulder, touch your fingertips to the largest tendon is his shoulder. It's the signal; he'll bring one out of storage for you. But listen to me, Doctor: do _not _follow him." Dorium is very serious. "He will have to kill you if even you know where my… materials are kept. You understand?"

"Yes, Dorium. Thank you. And what is the charge?"

"Oh, don't give him anything. He's rubbish with money, anyway. Let's call it even, Doctor. You've save countless creatures and beings; I think that's payment enough."

"Good man, Dorium. Thank you."

The Doctor does as he is told, thankful that Dorium had waved off the payment, as he's realized he'd left his intergalactic monetary units in the TARDIS.

As he waits for the blue headless body to return, The Doctor leans against the stall, closing his eyes. He tips his head down, resting his mind.

It is only minutes until Dorium's round body reenters the booth. He is holding what looks like a wide-banded leather bracelet, something out of place when not on the wrist of a beautiful woman with a head full of curly, blonde hair and brilliant ideas…

He takes it gratefully and tucks it away in his tweed jacket. He turns to walk down the path and slides one leg into the pants of his spacesuit.

Now. To get back to the TARDIS.


	7. Chapter Seven

**A/N:**

**Hooray for short chapters!**

**Hooray for short chapters?**

**You tell me.**

* * *

The Doctor had downloaded the coordinates of his desired site of teleportation to the manipulator after landing in the Library for the second time that day. This time, though, he parked her in the control room, hoping to avoid rousing suspicion again from the Library tenants. He straightens his bowtie a final time, the action awkward with the vortex manipulator strapped in place on his left wrist. He sighs, breathing deeply.

He presses the tiny blue button, disappearing from time and space.


	8. Chapter Eight

The sky in the virtual world is dark when The Doctor's existence is downloaded to the computer. He is at a playground. He knows logically that it is completely imagined, but it seems to be as real as he is, as well as the trees and bushes surrounding the park.

Of course, he's just a virtual representation of himself… Isn't he? He wonders if the computer can download physical matter. It must be able to, as all those in the Library at the time of the mass saving disappeared physically as well as mentally. So he deduces that he must be here in all actuality, as real here as he is in the TARDIS.

Interesting.

There are no stars in the sky; it is completely black. It makes him sad to see darkness when there should be the births, deaths, existences of so many suns as he is used to seeing.

He can see the large psychiatric hospital that Donna had described to The Doctor when she returned from her visit to the computer. There are homes near by, and he assumes them to be residential.

He begins his search for the six (seven?) by moving towards the houses, leaving the playground behind, walking on a pristine sidewalk.

The air is a neutral temperature, neither cool nor warm. His walk is brisk, and he reaches the houses quickly. Each home is the same; all identical with no variation. They are pale yellow with white trim, fairly plain, and relatively small. They all have two floors with a white door nestled in the middle of an elevated porch on the bottom, steps leading up to it. They look akin to a child's doll house.

As he walks, he notices a cluster of homes that appear to be in use… There are lights on in several windows, mostly on the second floors. The Doctor's eye is caught by one in particular, and he halts in front of it. After the monotony of seeing so many houses of the same shape, color, size, et cetera, a tiny variation such as this is easy to spot.

There is a ribbon tied to the doorknob… dark blue. TARDIS blue, specifically. His hearts stutter as he begins to walk towards it.

He stands on the porch, staring at the ribbon. The fabric is neat, carefully tied, and fills him with hope. It's a sign, he knows. He takes the doorknob in his hand, which is trembling slightly with emotion. He takes a shaky breath, a small voice in his buzzing mind cursing human emotions. He closes his eyes and opens the door, stepping inside silently.


	9. Chapter Nine

**Author's Note:**

**Thank you for commenting on the length of the chapters! I am completely unsure as to what the "perfect length" is, if such a thing even exists. Unfortunately I have one more sort-of short chapter for you, then I'll pick it back up with some longer ones, I think.**

**Thank you again, my delightful reviewers!**

* * *

It was dangerous.

The thing she had done.

So very treacherous. Perilous, even.

In fact, it might kill her.

She wonders… If she were to die in the computer, would she die in reality, too?

At this point, she doesn't care much about the answer.

It had started with a whisper from one of the dark, secret places in River's mind: the possibility of return. She had tried to cage the thought, the faith, had tried to ice it over like a young flower slain by an unexpected, late-spring freeze. But it had adapted, had broken through…

She was…

Hoping.

Hoping for The Doctor.

And for once, she had listened to the small whisper in her mind.

She wants him to find her, and desperately so. There is a physical pain in her chest, in her hearts, that makes her whole body ache.

After her guests had left earlier, she had put Charlotte, Josh, and Ella to bed (she told them the tale of her wedding day as a bedtime story). She had tried to lay down and sleep in her own, but her mind was restless. After pacing around the house in darkness for hours, she had collapsed on the grey sofa in her living room, her body exhausted. A few minutes of lying perfectly still, then her fingers had begun to twitch in impatience and she had gotten up again, this time heading for the closet in the living room.

It was at that point that she had broken her own rule: do not hope for his return.

She removed the only ribbon she had in the entire house: TARDIS blue. After carefully cutting and tying a piece neatly to the knob of her front door, her had mind calmed. She fell asleep for a short while on the sofa, fleeting dreams of her children dancing in her mind.

The peace, however was short-lived. She now lies on her back, awake yet again, her hands folded on her stomach, eyes wide open, looking at nothing. She is reminded of her days at Stormcage, many of them spent with her staring at the ceiling in a state of depression and loneliness. Of course, she would never let the guards see her like that. Only _him_.

She knows it's almost morning, but she is awake once again. She lays thinking. Wishing. Hoping.

She rolls to her left side, facing the back of the sofa. Longing grips her heart tightly like a fist. But she's not going to cry; she won't show her weakness to anyone but him, even when there's no one to see it at the moment. She will not cry. She squeezes her eyes shut and breathes deeply, once again bottling her emotions. Her eyes stay closed, and in no time, she is drifting back to sleep.


	10. Chapter Ten

**A/N: Sorry that it's not quite 1,000 words! I must be getting lazy...**

* * *

Although the sky above is devoid of the brilliant stars he loves so much, there is, of course, one large moon left to light the sky alone. Light leaks through the single window in the room. A moonlit shoulder, hip, her right leg… He longs to touch her.

She lies facing away from him on the sofa, unmoving, save for her soft breathing. It is inaudible at this distance, but he is so familiar with the gentle rise and fall of her chest that he can recognize it from kilos away. He stands in the doorway of the living room, watching her silently. She sleeps with no blanket over her, her nightclothes only slightly out of sorts.

He moves to the sofa, kneeling, smiling widely. She is beautiful even when she is asleep, _especially_ when she is asleep. He loves how her lips look when they are unpainted; they are a brilliant color on their own. Her eyelashes are long even with no mascara on them.

He touches her shoulder softly, burying his face in her neck. Even when she is but a mass of particles in a computer, he can smell her skin: the scent of moss, the color green, what he's always imagined it smells like to simply be alive…

Or perhaps it's just a memory.

But he has her at last, after so long!

He kisses her neck, her cheek, her lips. She pulls away, slightly startled, and her eyes open. She turns halfway towards him. He sits back on his heels patiently, allowing her to view him fully. Seeing his hair, the shine of his eyes in the darkness, his cheekbones illuminated by moonlight, she places her hands on either side of his face and pulls it to hers. She kisses him with a desperate ferocity, and he reciprocates equally.

She rises from the sofa, sitting, pulling him to her as he does the same to her. He sits next to her. They kiss with passion and deep, mutual love in the almost-darkness. He slips his large hands under her nightshirt to hold her bare hips while she grips his forearms, deepening the kiss. His lips move against hers perfectly, countering every move she makes.

After a long while of this (both are thankful for their great lung capacity), they break apart and sit clutching each other tightly, content beyond words in their reunion.

Finally, River lets the tears drip from her eyes. They fall on his tweed until he notices and holds her face, wiping them away with his thumbs. As he gazes into his eyes and she into his, she can see tears in his eyes as well.

"River Song," he whispers, "I've found you at last."

"Doctor," she speaks to him, "you delightful man. How did you even find your way in here?" though she already knows the answer. She grips his wrist without looking away from his face, smiling, fingering the vortex manipulator. "Clever bloke."

He presses a quick kiss to her lips, mumbling, "I've learned from the best, haven't I?"

They sit in each other's company for some time as the sun begins to rise. Light is oozing through the small window. River is properly and entirely drained, and The Doctor's emotions have gone all wibbly-wobbly.

She looks at his face in the growing light: his cheekbones, his eyes, his (lack of) eyebrows, his flopping hair, his chin, his lips… She knows that he can't stay, that he has to leave. Teleport out of the computer and back to reality.

She knows that she must let him. "Take me with you," she whispers. "Charlotte. Miss Evangelista. All of us."

The Doctor answers by looking into her eyes sadly. Then he smiles dismally. What kind of a husband would I be if I left you here?"

She hugs him tightly, pressing the side of her face to his chest, knowing. "One that has a trusting wife, Sweetie."

A tear rolls down his face. He adjusts the vortex manipulator on his wrist, glancing at it over River's unruly blonde hair. He presses a kiss to the top of her head as another tear falls. It lands on River's skin, and she looks up at him.

"Thank you," he whispers before he kisses her one last time and presses the glowing blue button on his manipulator.

He vanishes, and River is left alone in the morning light.

Despite it all, she has faith with all of her hearts and soul that he will return to her.


	11. Chapter Eleven

In no time, The Doctor is sitting in his sling in the room under the TARDIS console, the maintenance room, fiddling with a multitude of tangled wires of all sizes and colours. He acquires many wires on his body as he roots around in the underbelly of the console, throwing them over his shoulders and wrapping them around himself. Occasionally, sparks fly as he yanks the wires out of their proper places and relocates them into new ones. A trail of them lead across the room, up the stairs, and out the TARDIS doors, connecting in the control room of the Library to the supercomputer's datacore.

His plan is barely more than a theory at this point. It would be almost premature to act upon it at the current time. But he can't bear to not have River in his arms any longer, especially now that he had just seen her, held her, kissed her.

Worsening his remorseful mood, he remembers that she trusts him so much, had allowed him to leave so willingly. She had known that she might not ever see him again, that he might just finally let go of her and their timey-wimey relationship. Let her consciousness rot in that cursed computer eternally. But she had trusted that he would return; she is likely throwing the whole of her mind and body into the belief that he will come back to her, and hiding it from her companions as well.

Yes, she is lamenting in solitude while in the midst of friends...

And he had left her there.

He will hate himself for it until the day he dies for the last time.

But he is going to save her! Yes! Or actually, not _save_ her; that's already been done… _Free_ is more like. He's going to free her and the others.

The Doctor's "plan," if you're going to call it that, goes something like this: he intends to replicate what River did to free the 4,022 in the computer previously, at least to some extent.

River is the Child of the TARDIS, and The Doctor thinks that he can use that to his advantage in rescuing her and the others. It will take The Doctor's immense brain (or rather, his brain's storage capacity) as well as the TARDIS's datacore (the TARDIS's equivalent of the same) to upload the six into three-dimensional reality…

Seven, actually.

Yes, despite his premonitions and odd feelings about the foreshadowed seventh being saved into the computer, he can give no reason as to why he should leave it trapped there for eternity. Besides, he's sure that it would be impossible to pick and choose each living soul that is uploaded to actuality and each one that stays in the database.

As are many things when it comes to dealing with The Doctor, this is an all-or-nothing deal.

He works quickly, imitating River herself as he drapes wires across his body, preparing the TARDIS to download the lost group of travelers as well as himself. All the while, he works on convincing himself wholeheartedly that his plan is going to word. He doesn't care the cost of saving those people (and part-Time Lord and unknown species), even if it is his own life.

However, he secretly and desperately hopes that the heart of the TARDIS is spared. He would die if anything happened to his marvelous, sexy machine.

After all, what is a mad man in a box that has no box?

He takes the wires that are draped about him and twists them together, forming two very thick cables. He caps each with opposite ends of a plug, where one end has several prongs that are meant to be slid into the slots in the other, much like a wall plug.

Now he just needs the crown-thingy… the one that connects your brain to the system; it is vital for the process to be completed. Where is it again? Where had he stored it?

Oh, yes.

He launches himself out of the sling, shooting up the stairs to the console. He takes out his toolbox, which is stored underneath, and begins to rummage around in it. His eye is caught by the Chameleon Arch, but he digs past it. The famous _Melody Malone _book brushes his hand, and he winces as he pushes it aside, his mind fixed on finding the device quickly. Several other items that are quite useful, but just not at the moment, are set aside, apologetically forgotten for the moment as he rifles through the box.

Ah! There it is, the crown-thingy! He grins, holding it up, letting the ring rest on his fingertips.

_A crown, yes, but hopefully not one of thorns, _he thinks as he packs his gadgets and knick-knacks back into his toolbox. _With any luck, the sling will not act as my cross on this day._

The Doctor practically flies back down the stairs to the TARDIS maintenance room. Once there, he resituates himself in his sling. He sets the large pair of plugs in his lap carefully, not allowing them to touch just yet.

He connects the wires of the black device to the large makeshift cable, a few more sparks flying. He places it on his head with care, aligning the storage transfer bridges with the hippocampus and prefrontal cortex of his brain.

He takes a plug in each hand, the cables heavy. In an instant, a thousand possibilities are flashing through his mind. Most are unsuccessful, ill-fated outcomes, but some are victories for the Time Lord. He can see every single hole in his experiment, his plan.

There are many of them, unfortunately.

But he can't stop now. It would kill him if he waited any longer.

"Alright, you brilliant, sexy machine," he speaks to his TARDIS, the lights fluctuating in response. "Your little girl's coming home," he whispers in anticipation.

The TARDIS whirrs in preparation.

A final, almost dazzling bout of sparks is spewed as he jams the pronged end of the plug into the slotted end, electricity flowing through the now-complete circuit.

But The Doctor does not witness the fruition of his theory, as his consciousness is quite suddenly occupied with the invasion of seven others.

Bright lights dance in front of The Doctor's eyes, inside his head.

He had known that it was quite the risk to test the capacity of his brain in such ways. He now comes to the realisation that it might all be for naught as he falls into oblivion.


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Author's Note: (Feel free to skip this note if you deem it necessary; it's very long.)**

**In response to the comments I received in reply to the last chapter, I offer a brief explanation of the events betold in chapter 11:**

**The Doctor used his mind capacity and the TARDIS's data capability as a sort of (for lack of a better word) "bridge" for the seven to cross over from the computer to reality. They are not trapped within his mind, but they simply "passed through" his brain as well as the TARDIS's datacore on their way to becoming three-dimensional. Again, the operative word here is "bridge," as they are were simply passengers in the way that they were in The Doctor's brain. It is basically the parallel of when River used her own brain capacity to restore the 4,022 (4,023 if you count Donna Noble) from the computer, although she was killed in the process despite the massive capabilities of her own mind.**

**I'm sorry for muddying the details in the last chapter so much! I thought we could all use a drop of clarity such as this to make sense of the mess I got us into.**

**Thank you; I hope that cleared some things up for you. Again, truly sorry for the confusion!**

**Still have questions? PM me. Would love to help.**

**~Le Indigo**

* * *

_Oh, you mindless man!_ _You senseless, impulsive fool…_ River looks down at her brilliant husband, shaking her head. While the others stretch their limbs and blink their eyes, walking about the maintenance room, she kneels down to look at The Doctor's still face. Worry fills her to the brim despite her deprecating thoughts. She touches his neck, just below his jaw, checking his pulse. His skin is warm, and the four-beated thrumming of his hearts seems strong enough…

But she can't shake the feeling of dread that has fallen over her. She presses an ear to the left and right side of his chest in turn, seeing that each heart is working properly. His steady, quadruple heartbeat calms her own. She inhales deeply.

He is sprawled across the floor of the maintenance room with one leg still propped up in his sling. He lies with thick cables plugged together stretched across his chest, unconscious. Seeing the wiring and the black crown (she is so painfully familiar with it) that had oddly managed to cling to his head, River knows immediately what's happened.

Even brilliant men such as The Doctor can't withstand that kind of intense mental stress. It's a miracle that both of his hearts appear to be in working order.

His tweed jacket and favourite pair of trousers are rumpled, askew from the toss he's had. She smoothes his white button-up shirt, bends over his still body to straighten his ever-present bowtie. She kisses his jaw, his lips quickly, and looks fondly down at him.

"He looks different now," a small voice makes itself known. River turns to see Charlotte standing just to her left.

"He's regenerated since you've seen him last, dear," River says gently. She stretches out an arm, inviting the girl into her embrace.

"Does that mean he died?" Charlotte steps closer.

"Oh, yes. But he's not dead at this moment, dear. It's been hundreds of years since we've seen him. For him, it has, at least..." River's voice trails, becoming far away. Charlotte sits on the floor next to River, folding in her legs. River drapes an arm across her shoulders. "He's asleep, as he should be. He's a brilliant man, but he's done something very trying just now." River touches his face.

It's not long before Anita, the Daves, and Miss Evangelista are all gathered around The Doctor's body as well. Anita marks the sign of the cross across her front.

"Oh, for God's sake, he's not dead just now, Anita!" Proper Dave whispers, nudging her with his elbow.

She looks to River. "Not dead? But didn't he just do the very thing that killed _you_? The entire reason you were saved into that infernal database… It doesn't seem to be humanly possible at this point."

River smiles at her. "It's not. Time Lord, dear," she reminds them all. "Looks as if he's had the TARDIS on his side as well."

"Time Lord? That explains the change of face," Other Dave chimes in.

"His taste in clothes has changed as well," Miss Evangelista says quietly with a small laugh, eyeing his braces and bow-tie.

"If he's just fine, then what're we all doing squatting here lookin' sad, then?" Other Dave looks at the group. "Can't we move him somewhere more comfortable? 'Til he wakes up?"

River nods, taking his arms, and gestures for another to grab hold of his legs. "Follow me." Proper Dave takes up his legs, and River leads the way to the TARDIS medical bay, the other four trailing behind.

"Where are we, Song?" Anita asks gazing around in wonder as they climb the stairs to the console room.

The Doctor's toolbox lies open next to the console. River smiles at it as they make for one of the hallways that lead to the medical bay. "The TARDIS," she says simply. "The Doctor's spaceship."

"Oh, but it's massive!" Other Dave exclaims. "I thought the maintenance room was impressive, but if _this_ is the control room, then…"

"I've seen the TARDIS before," says Charlotte, who is walking near to River. "It was in my library. A long time ago. It's blue. But it's much bigger on the inside, isn't it?"

River laughs. "You could say that, dear."

"Professor?" River looks up from The Doctor to see Miss Evangelista's wide eyes looking at her. "How big, exactly?"

River readjusts The Doctor's arms. "Well. He," she nods at her husband, "would tell you that it's infinite. But really, it's only as big as you want it to be. It's a living thing that can grow and shrink, but it's also a ship. A machine"

"Ah. And that was the… maintenance room we were just in?" Miss Evangelista seems dissatisfied.

"Yes, one of his favourite places. He goes there when he wants to impress people or fix things that aren't broken. Sometimes he just sits in that silly sling of his, tinkering away, wearing enormous glasses that are much too big for his face. He does a lot of thinking down there."

"Men and their cars, eh?" Other Dave says.

They all chuckle as they encounter the end of a hallway with an iron door at the end.

Anita steps forward and holds open the heavy door for the others to haul The Doctor through.

As he is being heaved through the doorway, The Doctor lets out a sudden, startled gasp. His eyes snap open, as does his mouth, and he begins to flail about, causing Proper Dave and River to lose their grip. They lay him on the tile floor quickly, and his body goes rigid, straight as a board. He breathes heavily, his chest heaving.

The group gathers around The Doctor once again as he lies gasping on the floor, eyes wide, thin lips agape. They look on in alarm as River presses an ear to his chest again, checks his left and right hearts individually. They beat at a wild pace, but even that is better than not at all.

His eyes see nothing, she knows, and they stare blankly with a panic buried deep within them.

River kneels beside his head. Despite his frantic condition, she has a feeling that he can hear, if only her alone. "Doctor." She says it aloud (as well as in her head, hoping he can hear her telepathically if nothing else) as she puts a hand to his face. "Doctor, _look at me._" she commands.

His head turns, his eyes finally seeing hers, and he starts to calm. Although he still looks quite stricken, his breathing begins to stabilise. He sees her eyes, her face, her angelic hair. He inhales deeply through his nose, exhales through his mouth. He reaches a hand for her, touches hers, which is still laid upon his cheek.

Peaceful once again—though still wordless—The Doctor sighs, sitting up. He stretches his long legs and looks around at the group. He leans back on his palms, elbows pointed outward.

He holds up an index finger. "Now wait just a moment." He pauses, tilting his thin mouth down at one corner. "Either something has gone very, very wrong and I've killed you all as well as myself, or something's gone brilliantly right and you lot've been dragging me around my TARDIS just now." He looks expectantly at each of them in turn, raising his (nearly nonexistent) eyebrows. "Hm?"

River, despite being in the presence of five people that look to her as a leader, takes The Doctor's face in her hands and kisses him forcefully.

The Doctor is taken by surprise, and he sort of waves his hands about, batting at the air for a few moments.

River pulls back suddenly. The Doctor takes the chance to get a word in. "Now dear, this is hardly the behaviour we should be exhibiting around guests, don't you think?"

She ignores him, slapping him squarely across the face, and shouts, "You stupid man!" She presses a kiss to his lips again.

Miss Evangelista covers her mouth with a hand, having never seen the Lux Corporation's leader act so impulsively. The whole group is surprised at Professor Song's rashness.

The Doctor sits utterly dumbstruck, surprise written plainly on his features.

River turns to her companions, smiling. "I believe our rescuer has returned to us," she says happily. She glances back to The Doctor. "You bloody stupid man," she mutters. Then to the others: "Come on! Up, now, here we go, off to wherever we're going. I'm driving, mind you, but there are places that we've all got to be. Yes, up you go!" She leaps to her feet and drags The Doctor to his own. She starts off at a brisk pace to the console room, Raggedy Man in tow, and the five are left but to follow them blindly into the ever-changing labyrinth of the TARDIS.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Author's Note:**

**This chapter goes out to the kind-hearted Whenarewe! Without the help of her lovely young mind, this chapter would be a neutered stub of what it currently is. You all have her to thank!**

**PS: She has a very beautiful little fic on her profile, and I advise you to read it, as it's very sweet.**

**And a big thank you to my dear reviewers! You are all marvellous and kind and your continued support is so encouraging.**

* * *

"River! _River_! River, really, is this any way to treat your husband? And in his own TARDIS? Dear, I think you should slow down, too; you're walking quite fast!" The Doctor is struggling to keep hold of the hand of none other than River Song, who is, at the moment, dragging him through the many corridors of the TARDIS none too gently, despite the demanding mental and physical ordeal he has recently endured.

"Sweetie, I'm not in the mood to hear complaints." She says loudly. Then she hisses in his ear," Do you have any idea how foolish that was? You stupid man, you are not invincible!"

The Doctor hisses at her, "My, River, after all of this, it seems as though I am invincible! Don't you recall? _You've_ tested that theory yourself a handful of times yourself! Song, you've tried to kill me plenty of times!"

River shoots back, "_Doctor_! How _dare_ you mention Germany! And Utah, too! Really, how _dare_ you!" Now it's River's voice that takes up the prickly tone. "You know entirely well what went on there! I was not of my own will and mind then, neither of those times! How _dare _you hold that against me!"

The Doctor's manner isn't defensive now so much as childish. "And why aren't _I _allowed to do dangerous things? You run around entire galaxies shooting that nasty blaster-gun-thing of yours and popping around with that _stolen _vortex manipulator without a care for your own well-being! I've gotten you out of plenty sticky situations. Think of this as another, dear Song! Did you _want_ to spend the rest of eternity in the Library's computer database?"

"Of course not, you senseless man. I knew you would find a way to get us all out, but I didn't think you would be so idiotically and dangerously self-sacrificing," she spits. "And another thing…!"

The argument continues in hushed tones, whispers too low for the five confused accomplices following the wake of the impossible couple to hear. They've never seen the professor so upset, not at anyone. She's snapped at each of them (save for Charlotte, the obvious favourite), of course, but good-heartedly, and the brief moment of her impatience had always passed quickly and without any further irritation. But now, the pair's odd little argument is bringing out a side of Professor Song that none of them has ever seen before.

The two continue their squabbling, The Doctor throwing up weak, childish defenses, River attacking with tact. The path to the console room seems much longer this time around, and they begin to wonder how they keep the maze of the TARDIS straight in their minds.

It's similar, they realise, to how the younger Doctor, the previous regeneration, and River Song had interacted, but back then he had been so clueless as to who she was. He had responded to all of her flirtatious pokes at him with frustration and impatience, irritated with the fact that he wasn't allowed to find out more about her.

Presently, the banter between Professor and The Doctor begins to quiet down. The argument seems to lose some of its heat, each participant making less and less of an effort to upset the other. Eventually, they walk forward in silence once again, though the air is devoid of the previous stifling tension that had hung around them like a fog when The Doctor had been unconscious.

When they finally come upon a heavy door clearly marked _"Console Room," _The Doctor whirls suddenly to face them all, a serious expression on his face. River stands beside him supportively, though her façade is one of curiosity.

The atmosphere changes in a way so that it's as if a large gust of wind had blown out a hundred candles all at once on a once-still night. The difference between their companionable teasing a moment ago and the present sharpness of the very air between them is monumental.

They all halt and look at the pair, their eyes wide.

Having dropped his juvenile act, The Doctor stands before them as a man of power. He plants his feet firmly on the floor, clasping both hands behind his back in an authoritative manner. "River," he says lowly in a voice that could chill a Krillitane to the bone.

River evidently recognises his tone as something to be taken seriously. She steps closer to him, looking at the others. She touches his wrist with the lightness of a feather, a questioning gesture. "Sweetie?" she says quietly.

The Doctor surprises the members of River's expedition by giving them a scrutinizing look, a fierce notion in his eyes. "There is something we must address before this TARDIS goes anywhere at all. Actually, more than one. There's two." The Doctor's features are angular when his analytical gaze falls upon each of them in turn, including River. "Possibly three, if all goes well," he mutters.

His words entomb trepidation deep in her heart.

He claps his hands once, rubbing them together. He turns on a heel, shouting, "Item number one!" He swings around to face Charlotte, crouching down to her level in a smooth motion.

Her eyes meet his courageously. The can all see that she knows what's coming, what The Doctor has to say.

"You, my dear, are a very ill little girl," he says in a voice that is solemn and quiet, kindness in his eyes.

She breaks his gaze when he says this, looking away, fear and dread beginning to settle in her core.

Yes, she had known this was coming.

"Look at me," he says, tilting her chin up with a finger gently. The others look on in suppressed panic, having forgotten about Charlotte's dire condition. They themselves do not know much about it, only that it is unquestionably incurable and supposedly terminal.

She is brave again in the way that she meets The Doctor's gaze as he had ordered.

"Yes, Charlotte Abigail Lux, we have quite a problem on our hands," he says sadly, softly. He sighs. "Tell me how you feel."

"Tired," she responds after a moment of hesitation, as if she was deciding whether to lie and save them the trouble or tell the truth, thus asking for help. "Exhausted. Sick. Ill. Like I did before I started seeing my library every time that I closed my eyes."

River immediately swoops down and gently pulls the girl into her arms. She holds her there, Charlotte leaning into her gratefully. She hides her face in River's shoulder. River rests her chin on top of the girl's head. The professor looks at The Doctor wordlessly, relying on what he can see in her eyes to convey her panic, fear, and questions. And in that moment, even The Doctor can see the bond that has formed between the girl Charlotte and his wife.

She had noticed how quiet the girl had been since their arrival. She had talked about The Doctor, of course, when she had seen him lying unconscious. But since then, she'd trailed behind River silently, always close to her side. River had sensed that something was at the very least amiss, but her anger and concern for The Doctor had consumed her.

Anita steps forward. "Doctor? Tell us what to do. How can we help?"

"Yeah, I don't just want to stand around lookin' when we can do somethin' to help," Other Dave throws in.

"There's nothing." The Doctor is grave. "I don't know much about it myself. However, if I'm correct, we seem to be existing in the Medicinal Era of this galaxy. Am I wrong?"

There is no response from the others.

"_Am I wrong?" _he shouts, surprising them all. "There is a life on the line!"

"The—The Sister of the Infinite Schism. We can take her there. They can… They can help her," Anita stammers.

"Best hospital in the galaxy," says Miss Evangelista. "It's nearby. I read in books that when the teleports here were working, you could get there in an instant. D'you figure they're up again?"

"Oh, who needs teleports? We've got the TARDIS. Off we go, I suppose." He bursts through the doors to the console room, tossing commands over his shoulder as her struts around pulling levers and pushing buttons.

"Professor River Song—take Charlotte. Have a seat here, stay with her." River lifts the girl off the ground as he speaks, cradling her with care. "Proper Dave—call Mr. Lux. Immediately. Tell him what's happened, all of it. There's a telephone on the console, but be quick about it. We'll be leaving in just a mo', and not a second to waste. Evangelista—" he whirls to face her, "go through that door," he points, "and take a left, then a right, another right, and then a left and you'll be at the wardrobe room. Get some clothes for the lot of you; you look ridiculous in those space suits. Wouldn't want to cause a stir at the hospital, as security's tight enough as it is. Other Dave—go with her. Anita—sit with River and don't let Charlotte fall asleep. The Sisters will no doubt have a thousand questions."

The group rushes off to do their assigned jobs as The Doctor glances at Charlotte over his shoulder. "As for you, my dear girl, I want you to trust me." He smiles. "I am a doctor, after all." He winks at her and turns back to the console.

"Geronimo!" he shouts.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Author's Note:**

**The update for the next chapter (#15) or two is going to be tricky to fit in... I'm away from home (and a WiFi connection) for most of next week, so I'll be writing on paper. Consider this a heads-up for if the next chapter is late. It might not be, if I'm studious about writing it, but I wanted to both warn you and apologise in advance for if it is indeed late.**

**So I, not wanting to leave my dear readers for longer than promised, am posting this chapter (extra long (1,901 words exactly)!) now and praying I can get another done before I leave.**

**See you soon and thank you for clicking! :D**

* * *

The room is white, totally and completely. The bed sheets, the walls, the tile floor and ceiling, the scant plastic chairs, and even the small bedside table with one lamp are all white. However, light from the planet's single moon flows through the window like a river, creating the illusion that all is black and grey and silver.

The Doctor holds his head in his hands, his elbows resting on his knees. River Song sits next to him on the floor with one hand on his knee and one on his back in an expression of comfort, her head bent down next to his. Their foreheads are held together lightly, his shaggy, floppy brown hair squashing against her mess of blonde curls.

The others are scattered around the room, sleeping in various uncomfortable positions, some in chairs, some slumped against the stark walls. The girl lies on the hospital bed sleeping on her back, stable for the moment, though a myriad of needles and tubes trail out of her arms, leading to a number of bags filled with fluids and several machines (which, of course, have a white sheet draped over them).

The two time travelers are the only ones awake.

The Doctor takes River's hand from his knee and holds it in his own. The comfort her touch can grant him is a soundless blessing.

"I'm sorry, River," he says quietly so only she can hear. He knows that he upset her deeply through his recklessness in the past twelve hours, but he also knows that nothing hurts her more than seeing the girl Charlotte in such pain.

And he had caused it.

"For what, Sweetie?" she says despite the fact that she already knows the cause of his distress. She looks at him with gentleness in her eyes, and he looks back at her with self-deprecation in his own. "Oh, my dear old Doctor." She sighs. She puts a palm to his cheek and kisses him quickly, comfortingly. "It's not your fault she's sick."

"Oh, but it's my fault she's here now. Isn't that the whole reason for the Library? To keep her safe from the illness. It's a grave for a little girl, River, and I've brought her back from the dead. Now she's going to die a second time. I should never have meddled in this." He looks at her.

"She was tortured, Sweetie." River's words are gentle and carefully spoken. "We all were. It was a time traveler's worst nightmare, trust me." She smiles faintly. "But for a child to live such a predictable, monotonous life? Unheard of. It was hell enough for me, and she'd been there God-knows-how-much longer than I had." River pauses a moment to take The Doctor's other hand in hers. "… I counted the days," she whispers slowly, the pain evident in her voice.

"River, no!" he breathes back. "It's insanity!"

She looks away from him. "Yes. I know."

The Doctor drapes his arms across her shoulders gently. "Oh, River, no…" She turns to her husband at this, wrapping her arms around his neck. She presses her face into his shoulder.

The couple sits in silence for a time. One of the sleeping forms lying about the room shifts slightly, but neither look to see who it is.

The Doctor is just about to ask River a question when he realizes that she has fallen asleep leaning into him. He touches her hair gently with his long fingers, presses a kiss to her head softly.

After a moment of solitude in being the only conscious one in the room, The Doctor slumps down a little further on the floor and shuts his eyes.

The day's rapid proceedings flash through his mind.

* * *

_The Doctor raised Charlotte into his arms, River at his side. They stepped out of the TARDIS quickly, not bothering to lock her behind the others. The hospital was quite impressive from the outside; some might call it magnificent or grandiose. The sun was setting behind it, giving it a warm and heavenly atmosphere about it. None of them gave it a second glance, as their intentions kept them focused on the front doors._

_The Doctor stepped quickly across the lot, and Other Dave stepped forward to hold the doors for him and the others. The Doctor nodded at him in thanks as he passed, focused already on his next goal._

_Nurses and doctors milled about the first floor in groups of two or three, all dressed in the same long, white, nondescript nun's gown. Each wears a white cloth that trails almost to the floor to cover her hair. Except, of course, for a very flustered Time Lord, they are all women with not a male doctor in sight, but that was to be expected (hence _Sisters _of the Infinite Schism)._

_As soon as they had burst through the front doors, The Doctor and River Song leading the way, Other Dave bringing up the rear, the Sisters were on them. Charlotte was taken from The Doctor's arms and was replaced by River, who hugged him fiercely. The Sisters worked as if spurred by panic, but all wore completely calm expressions through the entire event, their voices hushed._

_Charlotte was placed on a board and carried into an elevator. The group of travelers had tried to follow, but a nun holding a clipboard had blocked their way._

"_Is her guardian present?" she had asked._

_The Doctor had looked to Other Dave, his lips pursed, a question in his eyes:_ Where is Lux?

_Other Dave whispered almost inaudibly, "On his way."_

"… _If her guardian is absent, we may not help the child." The woman looked uncomfortable. "A relative, perhaps? Present?"_

_River stepped forward without a second's hesitation. "She is my niece," she said firmly. "Charlotte Abigail Lux."_

_The group did their best to not react._

"_Marvellous," the nun had replied, despite the underlying expression of suspicion on her face. "Sign at the bottom, please, your full name." Without another question, she handed the clipboard over the River, along with a pen she had produced from behind her ear._

_River did as she was asked. The Doctor stole a glance at River's signature, which read _Amelia Jessica Pond.

"_She'll be on the fifth floor, the ANU, in room 563C," she said as she took the clipboard from River._

_The party of six filed into the lift. Miss Evangelista reached to push the button with a _5_ printed on it in many languages, mostly alien, when The Doctor stopped her._

"_Can I push the button?" he asked with a childish hope in his eyes, his eyebrows drawn together._

_Miss Evangelista smiled. "Of course, Doctor." She stepped aside._

_River rolled her eyes. Even under such dire circumstances, her husband never passed up a chance to act like an overgrown toddler._

_By the time they entered the room, Charlotte was already being plugged into an extensive multitude of blinking machines and bags of fluid. She was out cold and had a tube under her nose leading to an oxygen tank under the bedside table._

_Two nuns remained in the room, though there was no doubt that many more than that had aided in the quick setup of the machines. One was drawing a small amount of blood from Charlotte's arm; the other was pulling the white sheet up to her chin. She turned to exit the room and saw the group arriving._

"_Nurse," River spoke quickly to the one exiting, "what is happening to her?"_

_The Doctor reached for River's hand in an effort of support._

_The nun looked uncomfortable. "… It's a rare case, I can tell you that."_

"_What?" Anita stepped forward. "This has happened before?"_

"_Yes, a few times, but… it's a delicate situation at this point."_

"_How do you mean?" Proper Dave spoke._

_The nurse looked to the other, who had joined the first. The syringe of blood had been placed in a sterile plastic bag, the needle removed from its place and disposed of. "We can't tell you much because research is being conducted currently on the very matter. We have extensive labs in the underground of the hospital."_

"_But what _is _it that's wrong?" River was insistent._

_The second nurse spoke next. "No diagnosis can be confirmed yet, but from what we've been told by Doctor Smethurst, it's a form of degenerative nervous system antidevelopment."_

_Not anyone in the group was a doctor themselves (save for _The _Doctor) in anything but archaeology, but each knew enough of biology to know to be worried by this news._

"_Where is Doctor Smethurst now?" Anita asked._

"_She was here a moment ago, running tests, and likely will be back by morning."_

_The group looked disappointed, anxious. Both nurses turned to go, and no one stopped them when they exited._

_Without another word to one another, they had spread themselves about the room, some taking chairs and others sitting on the floor. With a glance out the window (seeing that the sun had now fully set), Proper Dave had leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. His companions soon followed suit._

_As the room was drained of daylight, the group was drained of energy; they began to make themselves comfortable. Soon, all was dark. The soft breathing of the sleeping travelers joined the gentle inhale and exhale of Charlotte Abigail Lux._

_All, save for the two time travelers sitting on the floor together, slept soundly._

* * *

Humans sleep a lot.

Time Lords sleep a little.

Part-Time Lords sleep a bit.

And so The Doctor is alone in his state of being awake for some time. He's learned over his thousand or so of years of living that it's incredibly boring to _not _sleep at times when it's entirely acceptable to do so. He's developed a splendid solution, which is to _doze, _as he so fondly calls it (though only in his mind).

He has become greatly accustomed to simply lying back, closing his eyes, and sort of _drifting. _There's a certain art to dozing, and The Doctor has most definitely mastered it. The purpose is to feel, act, and look as if one is asleep, and yet be completely alert at the same time.

The Doctor is in the middle of a particularly fulfilling session of dozing when he makes the most fatal mistake a professional dozer such as him could make:

The Doctor, in his exhausted state, falls asleep.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**A/N:**

**I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry.**

**This is so late. I'm embarrassed at myself.**

**It's been much too long, friends. But here it is, weeks later, and it's only half a chapter.**

**Let me explain.**

**I just typed up chapter 15, and it ended up being over 4,000 words long. I've cut it into two chapters, you see, but don't worry. Chapter 16 will be up in no time!**

**And thank you to those who continue to support this story!**

* * *

He was spoiled as a child. Born into a rich family, young Strackman Lux had everything he could ever want at the drop of a hat or the push of a button. His family holds a legacy of regal men and women, and they are famous for being rich. Strackman led a fairly sheltered life, blind to the pains of the universe. When he was seventeen, he naively decided that he would go into archaeology, which, at that time, he knew less than nothing about. His professor in college at Luna University was Doctor River Song, an intimidating woman that always seemed to know more than she let on. However, he soon discovered that archaeology was not something that he was particularly interested in. He hid this fact from his father, Bateman, who had pressed the idea of studying archaeology upon him in the first place. After struggling through college, Strackman Lux was appointed by his grandfather, Felman Lux, who was on his deathbed at that moment, to be the next caretaker of the Library while it was in lockdown.

Strackman did not take this seriously at first. As he saw it, he was to be a sort of janitor for an old, dusty planet that had been closed for the last ninety five years. Of course, he was aware of his aunt inside, the main database of the Library's computer. She was his father's sister, Charlotte Abigail, but he had never known her. Due to the impersonality of his occupation, he was somewhat distanced from that fact. The Library had shut itself down almost a century ago, 4,022 people disappearing all at once. Strackman's job was to investigate the circumstances of the occurrence and potentially pick the locks that the computer had put in place, as his father had, which were preventing anyone from entering or leaving.

Mr. Felman Lux passed away at a very old age shortly after assigning Strackman his position as caretaker of the Library. After years of investigating the complex digital safeguards and firewalls the Library had been designed to throw up in case of an emergency, Strackman had begun to understand his father grandfather more, had begun to actually care about his profession, had begun to become emotionally attached to the girl Charlotte.

He asked his father, Bateman Lux, about her. In his old age, he was initially bitter towards Strackman, telling him to stop snooping around and to just do his job. However, Strackman was persistent in his questioning. Between his gruelling work orbiting the Library, he called Bateman almost every other day to press the matter. Eventually, his father began to tell him about Charlotte, though it was with a sad note in his voice. Charlotte Abigail Lux was his younger sister, the last child of Felman and his wife, Andrea Lux.

They were inseparable. He was four years older than her, and was obscenely proud to be a big brother. He he did everything he was supposed to as an older sibling. He taught her about what he was learning in school before she was old enough to attend herself and let her ride his bike. Felman and Andrea were loving parents, but they were busy most of the time. Bateman was often left to entertain Charlotte himself while they were away. They had a nanny, of course, but she was mostly there to keep them out of trouble and feed them meals.

One day, Charlotte slept late into the morning. It was her birthday, and she was turning seven. Eleven-year-old-Bateman had woken up before her on purpose so he could make her breakfast. At around 12:15, he became impatient in waiting for her, and he went upstairs to get her up himself.

Buried under her patterned comforter, Charlotte was still in a deep sleep. He attempted in various ways to pull her from the depths of her slumber, but to his horror, she was unwavering in her sleep. He ran to the governess, Ms. Bailey, in tears. She was beginning to clean up the mess he'd made with breakfast, and he hysterically explained the situation. She rushed upstairs, telling him not the go into Charlotte's room until she said it was alright to, and locked the bedroom door behind her.

Bateman had entertained himself with eating his own portion of the breakfast he's prepared and making get-well cards for Charlotte in case she needed some cheering up. It was hours later, almost 5:00, that Ms. Bailey emerged from Charlotte's room. She was on the phone, and didn't pay Bateman much mind. She told him not to enter Charlotte's room yet. She said that she was speaking with his father, and that he should go turn on telly or something to keep busy. She disappeared yet again, but into her own room this time, still on the phone.

Bateman lingered by Charlotte's bedroom door, pressing an ear to the wood. He could hear nothing. The doorknob was still locked. He turned on the telly, as Ms. Bailey had suggested he do, and watched his and Charlotte's favourite show for a bit. Before he knew it, his father Felman was bursting through the front door, his mum Andrea close behind, both rushing upstairs with a short, "Hello, son," tossed in greeting at Bateman.

The next days of Bateman's childhood were spent at the hospital. The Sisters of the Infinite Schism were supposedly helping his sister to feel better, but they appeared to be as confused and at a loss as he and his parents were. Felman and Andrea were pulled aside on the fourth day there for a word with one of the doctors attending to Charlotte. Bateman was not allowed under any circumstances to hear what they were saying, and was told to wait in the room with Charlotte while the adults talked.

Charlotte had slept steadily for the those four days. Unceasingly, actually. She was constantly monitored by the hospital staff, and hooked up to many machines and computers, as well as bags of fluid. She was also closely watched by her dear brother, Bateman, who never left her side. When Andrea and Felman reentered the room, they said that he needs say goodbye to Charlotte now, that she was going away, to a different planet. Bateman asked with tears in his eyes if she was going to die. Felman answered with as much sincerity as he could muster. He told his son that no, she wasn't going to die. Not today, in any case.

Bateman said farewell to his sister and was told to wait outside the room for his parents to say goodbye. He did so. When Andrea and Felman appeared, his father was on the phone, even though tears were openly streaming down his face. Andrea gathered Bateman into her arms and guided him him into the lift. They took a hoverbus home and disappeared into their respective rooms.

Months went by. Ms. Bailey, the governess, left. The family grew apart despite their hour of need. Felman and Andrea clung to each other, sometimes allowing their lonely son Bateman to join them. Felman assured them all over and over and over that Charlotte had not passed away, that they might even see her again someday. She had just left to receive care on a different planet, and they she would be okay alone.

A library was built within the year. Felman told his son that she was living there now, that she was living in the Library. They did not visit the Library, though millions of other people and species did. It was a famous attraction in their galaxy, and for twenty years, lifeforms from the far reaches of the universe flocked to it in search of information and entertainment, never knowing that at the very core of the planet was a little girl named Charlotte.

But never once did the Luxes see the Library in person.

When Bateman was twenty-two, he had still not visited the Library. He was spiteful towards it, feeling betrayed by it for kidnapping his little sister. His father, Felman, was fifty three, and Andrea was now sixty. One day, the Library went into lockdown for unknown reasons. It was not a big deal at first, as it was seen as a small blip in the system, probably triggered by a minor occurance. Days went by, and 4,022 people were still in the Library with no word from the inside.

Months and years passed in silence, and when Felman was fifty nine, he started the Felman Lux Corporation. He studied computers and the history of virtual shutdowns. For the first time, he attempted to visit the Library. He failed due to the defenses of the computer. He orbited the planet for a few weeks, unraveling few of the thousand of digital locks piled around the planet's database. Andrea fell ill at the age of sixty five, and he rushed home to be with her. He stayed by her bedside until her last day. He and Bateman were devastated at the loss of wife and mother, but now united in their investigation of the lockdown of the Library. Bateman worked with his father, growing closer to him.

They hired few others, being very particular about the people that joined them in their search.

When Bateman Lux was twenty-eight, he married a girl named Victoria. They had one son, Strackman Lux. Bateman became ensnared by his new life with his family, and slowly began to disincorporate himself from the work he shared with his father. Thoughts of his darling younger sister had still plagued him and made his work increasingly difficult, so he eventually stopped helping his father on his ship.

Strackman grew up with no other siblings. He was blind to the Library and never cared much about it. He knew that his family owned the entire planet, but he never asked why it was shut down. He was increasingly detached from it as his life progressed. He was fickle in his interests in hobbies, schooling, and women. He was never connected to a single subject for long.

After attending college and being assigned to the position of caretaker of the mysterious Library, Strackman began to change. He was passionate in his work. There had been a lull in the Felman Lux Corporation's success, but it began to pick up again as Strackman worked at the locks and firewalls. He orbited the planet alone, and his hand full between piloting and adjusting the wireless connection the computer on his ship shared with the one at the Library. When he became close to unraveling the final code, he began taking applications for people to be hired by the FLC to examine the interiour of the Library.

Many applied, but his ship only allowed room for about five other people to join him.

His crew consisted of these:

Proper Dave: the first to apply to join the Felman Lux Corporation and a skilled pilot of various spacecraft.

Other Dave: a properly brilliant engineer and explorer, his application was littered with names of planets he'd researched and things he'd invented and built.

Anita: a fine, young archaeologist with potential aplenty, assuming she has the right guidance.

Miss Evangelista: Strackman's mistreated personal assistant that turned a deaf ear to every snide, rude comment the rest of the crew made about her.

Professor River Song: Strackman was surprised to receive an application from Professor Song, actually. He didn't even know how she found out about the FLC, which he had thought was fairly low-key. He chose her to lead them all, being the most experienced and most intelligent amongst them.

The new team worked with Strackman on his ship as he picked apart each lock, gathering codes and numbers and symbols.

After little more than two months, the Library allowed them to land on the surface of the planet. Yes, after one hundred years of darkness, across three lifetimes, the secrets of the Library began to be uncovered.

And that was where the crew's first encounter with The Doctor occurred.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**A/N: Sorry that the last chapter was so nonessential to the plotline. I just couldn't seem to stop exploring Charlotte's family history in my head once I started.**

* * *

The sun rises slowly, as alone in the sky as Mr. Strackman Lux is in his own thoughts.

He sits there by her bedside, and he wonders if his grandfather felt like this when he was put under the same stresses.

Hopeless.

Devastated.

Furious.

Furious... at the world.

Frustrated. With... himself.

Strackman is not a man that often expresses his emotions, especially through his actions, and one watching him at the current moment would almost not be able to tell what he is thinking as he sits. True, his manner is quiet and his presence noninvasive, but his almost-stoic face hides a glimmer of sadness, of remorse, of worry.

He, of course, is aware of the advances in medicine and medical technology, even despite his sheltered life. He tells himself over and over that there might be hope for Charlotte, that there might be new information on her condition, that she can be helped. She could be saved, he tells himself. She could live.

But she could also die.

Because then again, there is danger in raising one's hopes above what is even possibly achievable in actuality.

His former crew lies strewn around the room like a child's forgotten dolls, sleeping in uncomfortable positions. His thoughts of worry and remorse for Charlotte turn into memories of working with the five on his ship orbiting the Library. Their time together hadn't been long, but nothing could erase the things he had learned from each of them.

Amongst all the familiar faces, there is one man present that Strackman doesn't quite recognise... He appears to be a friend of Professor Song's. Actually, a lover, perhaps, judging by the way they've fallen asleep together. His arm thrown over her shoulders, her hand resting on his knee, their heads bent together... Looking at his appearance, he is quite a mystery to Lux, in truth. She obviously doesn't live with him, as he could never imagine Professor Song allowing any spouse of hers to wear such ridiculous clothing. From his braces to his bow tie to his flopping hair, he evidently dresses himself with no help at all. Actually, he looks sort of like a candy man, Strackman thinks. Yes, with that silly bow tie and tweed coat, he would fit right in behind the counter of a candy shop, chatting away happily with children and serving sweets all day.

In contrast to the noisy disquiet in his cluttered mind, the room is unbearably silent. The white colour that has suffocated its occupants for close to twelve hours now seems to have absorbed every noise. Even the sound of Charlotte's soft breathing has been muted to his ears, despite Lux's close proximity to the girl.

Strackman glances to the door as it opens suddenly, swinging wide without a squeak or creak. Two nurses and a (judging by the slightly more eccentric headdress she is wearing) doctor enter like ghosts, looking regal in their white gowns. They get to work at once, not giving Lux a single glance. The pair of nurses lift the sheets off of the machines while the doctor scrutinises a monitor next to Charlotte's bed.

"Hello," Strackman attempts to get their attention.

The doctor does not acknowledge him, but the two nurses turn friendly faces to him.

"Hello. And who is this that has joined us during the night? Are you Charlotte's father?"

Strackman shakes his head. "Nephew," he replies.

The nurses' faces betray their confusion.

Lux stands and holds out a hand. "Strackman Lux, Felman Lux Corporation, current caretaker of the Library."

Recognition dawn on the nurses. They are quite familiar with the Library, a neighbouring planet of their own, and its enigmatic history of darkness and danger. It had reopened recently, and is now always buzzing with students, scholars, and others of the sort.

"Nurse Harding," the doctor interrupts, impatience spoiling her otherwise kind voice, "the status of the child, please."

"Yes, Doctor Smethurst," Nurse Harding's attention returns to one of the machines Charlotte is plugged into, and the other nurse turns away as well. As she does, Mr. Lux catches a few letters of her nametag, which he reads as "DuBose."

Feeling like he is only in the way of the three nuns, Strackman Lux relocates to the edge of the room. An action of lingering habits, he sits next to Miss Evangelista.

Having mistakenly assumed that she is still fast asleep, he is startled when she turns to him. "Mr. Lux," she says sleepily. "You've made it."

Strackman nods. "Other Dave phoned me. I was surprised to hear from him, actually. He said The Doctor found a way to get you lot off that blasted planet. Charlotte included."

"Including Charlotte," Miss Evangelista agrees sadly.

"I came as soon as I heard," he adds.

"Lux? Mr. Lux!" Proper Dave is awake now. Though he excited to see Lux, he keeps his voice low. "Hey, Dave, Mr. Lux is here." He thumps his friend in the chest with the back of his hand.

"Eh? Lux? Where?" Other Dave rubs his eyes wearily, following the former in stumbling over to sit across from Miss Evangelista and Strackman on the tile floor.

Anita, having been woken up by the soft chatter, joins the crew as well.

They talk. Catch up. Each avoids the subject of the matter at hand deliberately and cautiously, the conversation tiptoeing around the topic of Charlotte and Strackman Lux's family.

All the while, Doctor Smethurst, Nurse Harding, and Nurse DuBose work diligently and quickly around Charlotte, seeming like robotic hummingbirds in their assiduity*****.

"So where is The Doctor?" Lux asks his former crewmates. Doctor Smethurst turns to him, a confused-and a tad bit annoyed-look on her face. "Sorry. Different Doctor, ma'am. Carry on." The nun turns back to the monitor, resuming her typing at a tremendous pace on a modified keyboard.

Other Dave throws a thumb to the man in the bow tie, still asleep next to Professor Song across the room. "That's him, there," he says.

"That bloke?" Lux whispers in disbelief. He looks to Proper Dave now, who nods. Lux's eyebrows rise. "My god, he's changed."

"Regenerated." Anita explains. "Same man, new body. Time Lord and all that, recall?"

"Of course I recall. I just never thought it'd be so... drastic. I suppose his taste in clothing has changed, too, eh?" He smiles in spite of himself.

"Mr. Lux." Nurse DuBose speaks, halting the crew's chatter. "Doctor Smethurst would like to borrow you for a mo'. She would like to speak with all the present family members shortly. Would you mind waking up Ms. Pond over there, please?"

"Thank you, Mr. Lux; we'll be in the hallway," Nurse Harding says on her way out the door.

The three exit the room.

"Who is Ms. Pond?" Lux asks, looking around.

"It's Professor Song." The answer comes from Miss Evangelista. At the deepened confusion in Lux's face, she adds, "We'll explain later," and nudges his arm, urging him to get up.

Strackman is now uneasy. "Er... I have to wake her up? Myself?"

An irritated voice calls from across the room: "Oh, don't you dare even bother. I'll meet you in the hallway, Lux." Professor Song stands, deliberately waking The Doctor next to her as she does so.

"What?" she remarks at their surprised expressions. "You can't possibly have thought that I was asleep all that time, can you?" She smiles slyly. "I'd miss all the action, and all the action would miss me."

She leaves the room in pursuit of the nuns, and Lux follows her without another question.

After the room is emptied of five of its occupants, the group is quiet. For once, The Doctor says nothing. He just sits in his newly awakened state, still separated from Lux's crew, leaning his back against the wall, looking sadly at Charlotte. He is deep in thought, his transparent eyebrows drawn together in worry and his thins lips pursed. The others follow suit, at least to some extent. Other Dave fidgets with his hands, criss-crossing his fingers repeatedly, and Anita taps a rhythm on the tile floor with her fingernails. They are thinking about Charlotte.

No more than twelve minutes later (by The Doctor's count), Strackman Lux rejoins the party alone, looking relieved. All of them have questions on the edges of their tongues, but The Doctor stands and speaks before anyone else. "Where is River?"

"She ran to the loo after we finished with the nuns. She said she'll be just a second." He focuses on Charlotte, rushing to her bedside. His fingers brush the skin of her arm, where a web of wires and tubes have made their home. "I barely know her," he whispers. The Doctor, followed by Lux's crew, joins him at her bedside. "Never seen her in person, you know. Just pictures and holos. Heard plenty of stories, though. From my dad. She's my aunt and I've never known her. But now I feel like she's my own child."

Yes, after living his life as a rich boy born to a rich family, after years of being a stranger to emotional pain and loss, after so long being spoiled as a child himself, and even as an adult, Strackman Lux feels as though he is responsible for something. Someone.

"So it's bad news, then?" Proper Dave guesses frankly.

"... No. Not bad news. Medicine has changed in the last hundred and twenty years, you can imagine, and while not much is know about her condition, Doctor Smethurst predicts that her symptoms can be treated. With luck, the problem can be isolated soon. Nanogenes can repair some of the damage, even. Doctor Smethurst has yet to tell us more."

They all breathe a sigh of relief. The Doctor studies Charlotte closely. He appears to be pleased with the good news, a reason to hope for her recovery, but still, he speaks not a word.

Until, a moment later: "There were three things," he mutters, "if you recall. Three items that we must discuss. I mentioned them in the TARDIS. The first of them was the girl."

A pause.

Then: "Doctor?" Anita speaks.

His head turns toward her, but his eyes stay focused on Charlotte. "Hm?"

"What is item number two?" she asks.

"Ah." He smiles. "We will begin on that topic when the professor returns."

If it can be said that a watched pot never boils, then it can also be said that a watched child always wakes. Before long, Charlotte opens her eyes. She is confused, at first, upon finding herself staring at a stark ceiling beneath crisp, white sheets. She sits up in bed. She is met with a chorus of, "Good morning, Charlotte," from her friends, but her eyes meet only The Doctor's.

"Where is River?" she asks at once, her voice weary.

"Out for the moment," he answers. "Won't be but a second. Have you slept well, Charlotte?"

Oddly, she ignores his question. Instead, she turns to Strackman. "You were in my library. A long time ago, you were there with River and them." She waves a hand at his companions. "I think I know who you are, though. Sort of... but you'd better tell me. Things in my head sort of get muddled after a while."

Mr. Lux holds out a hand. "Strackman Lux. Your nephew, I believe. Your father, Felman, is my grandfather, and your brother, Bateman, is my father."

"I see," she says. She shakes his hand. "Yes, River told me about you. You're Victoria's son, she says. That's the woman that married Bateman, apparently."

"Exactly."

"But Bateman is my older brother..." Fear and hysteria begin to creep into her voice. "He's eleven. Eleven!"

Lux smiles comfortingly. "Not any more."

"Oh..." Charlotte's mixed expression is one of shock and lingering confusion. She looks back at The Doctor. "Where is River again, Doctor?"

At that moment, with impeccable timing, Professor River Song herself walks through the door. She sees immediately that Charlotte is awake.

"River," the girl says weakly.

River rushes to her bedside, at once taking the girl in her arms. "Charlotte, darling girl, you're awake." She touches Charlotte's hair gently. "And how are we feeling?" she asks, inspecting her face.

"Better. A bit tired. Is this a hospital?"

"Yes. The best one in the universe, dear. The Sisters of the Infinite Schism are taking good care of you, don't you think?"

Charlotte nods. "Yes."

"Doctor Smethurst is very intelligent and the staff here are kind." She leans closer. "But listen to me. If anyone asks," she whispers, "I'm your aunt and my name is Amy.

They both laugh, a welcome sound, and it infects the others easily. Soon, Lux and his crew are all chuckling to themselves.

But The Doctor, on the contrary, just smiles. He is pleased, River can see, but he's barely said a word since the sun came up. His charming, talkative demeanor is absent, replaced with one that is reserved, more content to watch than be the center of attention (as is his usual manner). It doesn't suit him, she decides.

River gives him a hard stare, knowing that he will read what she has to say in her eyes. Their gazes meet, and his eyebrows rise in understanding. He nods slightly once.

River looks once again to Charlotte. "Are you hungry, dear? I saw a sign for the cafeteria while I was out."

Charlotte nods, looking tired again.

"We won't be but a moment, sweetie." She strides away, catching The Doctor's wrist as she passes him. He follows without a word. "Oh." River pauses, turning around. "And you lot ought to have breakfast as well. You can go when we get back." She leans in, lowering her voice. "Do not leave her alone," she says slowly, quietly, knives punctuating her voice.

And with that, Professor River Song and The Doctor vacate Charlotte's hospital room in search of (among other things) a cafeteria.

* * *

***Assiduity: (I learned this word today; thought I'd share the definition with you.)**

**1. constant or close application or effort; diligence; industry.**

**2. assiduities, devoted or solicitous attentions.**

**Source: "assiduity." _Collins English Dictionary - Complete & Unabridged 10th Edition_. HarperCollins Publishers. 06 Aug. 2013. [Dictionary dot com] (full ****link has been omitted due to FanFiction's spam prevention policies)**

* * *

**Author's Note: My beautiful reviewers! Thank you for your honesty! It is quite welcome and immensely appreciated, as I'm greatly interested in what you have to say, be it kind words or harsh criticism. Thank you, thank you, and thank you again.**


	17. Chapter Seventeen

**A/N:**

**Someone once said that as an author, you have to trust your readers. Trust them to understand, and trust them to approve.**

**Well.**

***musters courage***

**Here goes.**

* * *

The hospital is a maze.

After not more than four minutes of wandering through the many hallways of the sixth floor, The Doctor is fairly sure that they are going in circles. He begins to wonder where the toilets exactly are in this hospital, as he actually hasn't seen any so far, nor a sign indicating where the cafeteria is.

He begins to get the slightest notion that River Song is leading him on, not intending at all for their destination to be the cafeteria. Is there something on her mind? She has spoken aloud not a single word to him (directly) since they talked in Charlotte's room last night.

Although, on the other hand, he hadn't said anything to her, either.

When it comes to River and The Doctor's relationship, there is often a need for quiet. When heralded by the word, "Spoilers," there is a silence that is filled to the brim with frustration and intense curiosity. Save for those occasional, damning spoilers that could potentially tear apart time and space if they are told, there are no secrets between the pair.

There is another sort of quietness in their relationship that occurs often. However, it is only a verbal silence, as telepathic communication is often employed. Time Lords are typically accustomed to holding conversations with each other by way of their ability to know one another's thoughts. In fact, there has been a handful of evenings spent in the TARDIS library on a sofa, one body tangled around another, each perfectly awake, yet seemingly asleep. On those nights, not a word was uttered out loud, but an intimate exchange of telepathic communications (images, feelings, notions, words, emotions...) took place.

However, at the present, The Doctor has attempted several times to reach River's mind with his own as he follows blindly through the hallways of the hospital. Every one of his endeavours has been in vain.

When mixing minds with a Time Lord, one has only to "close a door" on thoughts the Time Lord is not welcome to explore. Similarly, it seems as though River has closed (and dead bolted, apparently) the door to her mind entirely to The Doctor. Of course, he knocked, even rung the doorbell a few times, but it only seems to have strengthened her defenses.

Yes, whatever is on River's mind, The Doctor is not permitted to know.

And he is hurt by this. Deeply. Since being reborn from the Library's database less than twenty-four hours ago, she's not once allowed him entrance to her thoughts. Before, he recalls, even at Darillium, her mind was an open book to him, as was his to her.

He pushes these thought from his head. He loves River more than anything in all the galaxies, more than anything in the entire universe, out of all of fathomable existence, more than anything throughout all of time and space. Nothing can tarnish that, he assures himself. _Never_ will he stop loving her, and not for any reason.

If she wants to keep her own secrets, then so be it. The Doctor trusts River Song now almost as much as he trusts himself, and he tries not to be bothered by the closed door that lies before him.

He lets his thoughts return to their destination. Which is where, by the way? The Doctor's almost forgotten at this point.

They are now most certainly going in circles, as they're approaching the lift for fourth time now, having made yet another loop around the sixth floor.

A thought occurs to him.

What if...

No. God forbid.

It can't be.

But what...

What if River Song is...

Lost? Does she even know where she's-

_"Stop it."_ The Doctor bumps into River herself, who has whirled around to face him, a scowl dark in her expression and voice. She doesn't pull away an inch. In fact, she leans in closer. "Stop it right now, Doctor." Her tone is deadly. "Don't you _dare_ assume that I'm lost. Why, I've been here before, all on my own, without _you_. You _yourself_ dumped me her after I saved your bloody backside-"

"Actually, it was my legs that went first-"

"And you dare to think that I'm _lost_?"

"River, no, please," The Doctor tries to calm her rage. "It's not like that." He welcomes her, pulling her into his embrace gently. She falls into him, her anger melting, though she doesn't wrap her arms around him like he is to her. "We have passed that lift quite a few times, though," he mumbles. "I know you'd never lead me astray, River Song." He touches her hair gently. "I didn't have a choice, you know. I had to let things happen. I had to leave you here that day, you know that. Your journal. That was all I could do. Leave the journal."

Finally, she hugs him back.

"That's my girl, Doctor River Song!" he declares. "And give us a smile, eh? You've been pouting all morning. Bitter mood, I suppose. Where is that luminous ray of sunshine we all know so well? Eh? Come on, then."

River looks up at The Doctor. Her scowl has returned to her face, her eyes narrowed at him. "Don't push your luck, spaceman." She spits the words at him as if they taste properly foul, but The Doctor knows better than to take it as a threat.

"There we are!" He kisses her on the cheek.

River rolls her eyes. As she turns to lead the way once again, The Doctor catches her arm, turning her to him. He presses a chaste kiss to her lips. He looks into her eyes, hoping that they will betray what she is thinking, as they so often do.

"That's not fair, by the way," he says.

"Who says I play fair?" River raises an eyebrow at him.

The Doctor shrugs. "You've closed a door on me, but I've left mine wide open to you."

"No, you haven't. Look at you. You're the one that's been sour all morning. Sulking about like that. You've shut yourself up tight, this time, Doctor. I haven't the foggiest as to what's bothering you. And where are you getting these bloody ideas about me being lost? I know exactly where the cafeteria is."

"Do you, now?"

"Yes. It's down that hall and the third door on the left is the cafeteria."

"Then why have we been-"

"Because there's something on your mind, Doctor. You've been a ghost from when you got up until moments ago. Where is your emotion, Doctor? Where are your hearts? I know you've been thinking; I've seen that damned look in your eye. Now stop it and tell me what's infested that brain of yours." Despite her sharpness, she steps closer to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. She looks into his eyes, trying to see what she is desperately hoping to be there.

He breaks her gaze, looking down. He doesn't want her to look into his eyes and see. He doesn't want to to reach out with her mind and knock gently on his door, as she's doing now. He doesn't want her to be this close to him, poisoning him with her beauty and unconditional love.

But...

At the same time, he does.

She deserves to know. He now steps closer as well. He wraps an arm around her back, supporting her, holding her near to him. With his free hand, he slides his fingers into hers.

He looks into her eyes. Bravely, this time. "River Song, you listen to me," he whispers quickly.

She nods.

"Alright. I'm going to speak. I don't know what's going to come out of my mouth, but I want you to listen. Okay? Everything I have to say, I want you to hear it."

"Yes, Doctor," she whispers. She squeezes his hand.

He releases her, turning away on a heel. He waltzes around, pacing. River is familiar with his frustrated traipsing about; he often does it when he's gathering his thoughts. He swings back to her suddenly, keeping just a palm's width of space between them.

He leans in, trembling slightly. "Item of discussion number two," he breathes.

Her eyes widen.

"Seven," he says mysteriously.

No, he can't... He can't know...

"I went to the Library, River; you know this. It almost killed me." He shifts his weight from foot to foot. "It was..." His chin quivers. "River, it hurt so bad. I didn't know what to do. But I needed to know. Know that you were there. And damn it, I checked the computer!" He again strides away, his pain evident in his actions. "I used my sonic stupid screwdriver on that stupid computer," he mumbles, "and I checked the database."

"Oh, Doctor..."

In a flash, he is in front of her again, his arms waving about in his frustration. "Seven!" he shouts. "Seven saved. Charlotte. Proper Dave. Other Dave, Anita, Miss Evangelista, you, River Song... that is six. Just six. But there are seven; the database had seven lifeforms saved in it."

"What does that even-" River starts.

"Something is amiss, and I just don't-"

"No. Let me speak, Doctor. You came. You found a way in. You saw for yourself. Everything is fine."

The Doctor looks away. "I don't think it is, River."

"Is this what you've been so mopey about?"

"Yes. Well. No. Well... Not Exactly. Actually, yes. But that's not the point."

"I think it is the point, Doctor. What is it? What's happened that's made you so upset?" She touches his arm supportively.

He takes a deep breath. "I've dreamt something, River. Last night, about the seventh."

Ah. So this is how it goes down. River straightens her back, standing up tall. She looks him bravely in the face, already knowing. "Tell me, Doctor."

"River, I know. Oh, River, do I know. But listen. Wait, I mean look. Look around you. We're in a hospital. What better place to sort this out, eh? Of course, they might not know much about computer viruses... Is that viri? What's the rule again, dear? About nouns ending in -us? When they're made plural, don't they-"

_"Computer virus?_ What are you going on about?"

"I suppose it does seem a little absurd when you think about it. I mean, computer viruses usually infect computers, you see, and not people, not living human minds..."

River stares at him. He continues, rambling about, but she stops listening. She wonders with a self-spiting chuckle how someone so brilliant can be so immensely thick.

"-and that's when I come in!" The Doctor shouts triumphantly. River has no idea what he's talking about now, but she's pretty sure it doesn't have a point to it. She waits for him to finish. However, his apparent victory escalates. He begins to dance around in a circle, stomping to an imaginary beat, waving his elbows about like a chicken. She just waits for him to finish, staring.

He catches her glare and halts. "Are you finished, Doctor? Parading, I mean. Didn't we leave Charlotte's room with a purpose?"

The Doctor deflates. "Of course. But... River, what is it? Why the stern face?"

She takes his hand, leading him somewhere against his will yet again. As she described before, they turn left down another hallway, this one slightly wider than the previous. There are a few nuns dressed in white roving about. They pair walk quickly, River leading. They pass a large set of double doors, the third on the left. The Doctor tries to point them out to River when he reads the sign saying "Cafeteria," but she won't even look at him. She tugs him on.

They finally stop in front of the second-to-last door on the right. Her back is to him, but he can see that her shoulders are shaking.

"Um, River? All you alright? Because, uh, we seem to have passed the cafeteria, dear..."

Finally, she turns to him. "Doctor," she says. Reaching out, she turns his head to the words on the door in front of them. There, written in a few scattered alien languages, is this:

Jade Glover:

Obstetrician/Gynecologist

Walk-ins welcome 10:00 AM-7:00 PM

The Doctor's eyebrows shoot up as he gasps.

_Penny in the air._

He looks from the door to River's face and back several times. His eyebrows fall again in confusion, though his eyes are wide, and he purses his lips. It's that_ thinking face_ of his again.

_The penny drops..._

"Oh," he says.


	18. Chapter Eighteen

**I am ashamed of myself. My negligence is inexcusable, dear readers. I have failed as an author and a fangirl. I've sworn to update weekly, and it's been almost a month since the last chapter. Might I revise that promise? It would suit me better to update monthly. Yes, I shall make it my goal to do so. Autumn is a glorious season, but hideously busy. I believe that it is universally acknowledged that there are not enough hours in the day as it is.**

**This chapter goes out to the lovely author Cristiane Silva, who gave me the confidence and encouragement I needed to hurry up and get it finished.**

* * *

River's eyes are most definitely watering now. Cold tears waver at the edges of her eyelids precariously. Much like the Professor herself, their current existence is fragile. It's strange to think that something as insignificant as gravity could send them falling, flowing, streaming with just a bit of imbalance and timing.

River Song is afraid.

So, so afraid.

Terrified.

She doesn't know if she can stand the silence of his contemplation. She wants to run, run all the way back to the TARDIS, even despite her newly confirmed condition. She wants to run to the TARDIS library and curl up into a ball and wait until she dies all over again. She wants to run away and never stop, just like she's been doing her entire life.

But she knows that The Doctor's been running, too, and for much longer than she has.

Finally, he speaks, his brows drawn together, worry in his eyes.. "River," he breathes her name, a question urgent in his voice, "you're not...?"

She inhales, closing her eyes. A tear falls from each eye. Fighting through her paralysing fear, she nods, exhaling. She feels him step closer, feels his fingertips on her face, her cheeks. She tilts her head down, but a long finger tips it back so she faces him. She does not open her eyes. She does not want to see his reaction. Does not want him to look into her expressive eyes and read her cover-to-cover like he does when he's worrying for her.

And she is so, so afraid.

She doesn't want to be alone. Even despite her need to run away, River does not want to face this alone. Not anymore. Not after everything.

She doesn't want to be condemned. Not again. Not by him. She knew, had always known, that when the day came that she looked into those confused, unknowing eyes would be the day that she had nothing left to live for. And so it was. She sacrificed herself that day to save thousands, but it was for selfish reasons. She knew that she was meant to die there, to be a hero, to sacrifice herself, but the action was a double-edged sword, acting as her desperate attempt to escape from The Doctor's innocent eyes. His deafening gaze, the confused way he looked at her that day, has haunted her for eternities in the lonely database of the Library.

And she can't do it. She can't look at him. To look into his face and see anger, disappointment, castigation, regret, disgust would be to undo her resurrection from the Library. She would fall to pieces on the spot, she is sure.

His chaste kiss against her lips does nothing to ease her crippling fear (as it was intended to do), but the longer, deeper one that follows begins to melt her frozen limbs. She habitually kisses back, though just weakly, not feeling anything, only the urge to run, run, run.

Ultimately, isn't that what she always does when she's scared? When she's hurting? When she's afraid of being alone? Of disclosing too much? She isolates herself. When she was at the Library, that damning black crown resting on her curly hair, a mess of wires in her lap, and a death wish dictating her every action, River was running from him. The Doctor.

But then, that wasn't him at all, really. Not her Doctor. Not her him.

After all, River herself coined the term, "Never let him see the damage." She gets along without him when she has to, which is close to always. She presses forward, growing older every day while he trots around all of time and space in his eternal youth.

She carries on. She lives life.

… Well.

That is not always the case, evidently.

The Doctor's hands hold River's face, her eyes still stubbornly closed in fear. He whispers, "River Song, I know you. You are the bravest woman to ever live. You are brilliant. You are the only daughter of Amelia Pond, the Girl Who Waited, and Rory Pond, the Last Centurion. You are part-Time Lord. You are the child of the TARDIS, the Woman Who Killed the Doctor. You're my wife. And dear God, River Song, you are impossible." Even though her eyes are still shut tight, she can hear the tears, the heartache, in his voice now. "And you need to hear something from me, River Song, but I want you to see me when I say it. To look at me."

She shakes her head in answer. She can't look at him. She can't look into those eyes.

He steps unbearably closer, placing his large hands on her waist.

"Alright, then," he whispers. He sighs. He pushes his forehead against hers gently. "Knock, knock, Doctor Song."

An act of impetuosity, she flings the door to her mind wide open, welcoming him with all of her strength. His consciousness invades hers immediately, almost overwhelming her with the writhing, wearing emotions he is feeling.

It is love. Love fills her mind to the brim, as well as memories, images of them together, feelings of love and sadness and joy and solitude and...

Fear.

The underlying theme to every thought they share is fear. Terror. Trepidation. Panic.

And, for the first time in River's life, she is not alone in her anxiety, her fear. Raised as the ultimate weapon, hell in high heels, The Doctor's murderer, River has never had anyone to fear with. She's always been afraid alone, left to be brave, to work through it in solitude. Sometimes it was even banishment, taking her time at Stormcage into account.

A memory surfaces uninvited. It hurts to remember, hurts both The Doctor and River Song:

River places the black crown on her golden head. The Doctor looks on, utterly helpless and mildly confused, River's handcuffs linking him the the Library's infrastructure.

Her goodbye is rushed and desperate. "You've got all of that to come. You and me, time and space. You watch us run! …Hush, now—Spoilers!"

Spoilers.

Spoilers...

The famous last words of Professor River Song.

She was afraid then, but she was brave. She knew that she had nothing left to fear. Nothing left to lose. Everything she loved had already been taken from her. It had started with her parents, and then it was The Doctor, or at least her Doctor.

And so, she was alone in time and space. She had nobody. Nothing left to love.

Or so she thought.

At that point, her greatest fears had already been realised. The Doctor had looked at her with naïve, unknowing eyes, having never seen her before in his life.

And...

She didn't know then. She couldn't have known. She had no time for thoughts of even the possibility of a baby, a vulnerable foetus nestled within her, while leading an important, dangerous expedition deep into the heart of the forsaken Library.

However, thinking back to it, The Doctor had been fairly suspicious of her. Of course, she was a stranger to him, so it's natural for him to be curious. But he was sniffing around a little more than she was used to.

Would she have made the same choice if she had known? Would she have given both her own life and the life of her unborn child to save those of the 4,022 people?

She doesn't want to know.

Finally, in a rash fit of bravery, River opens her eyes. She meets his gaze, and her racing hearts are calmed a tiny amount when she sees the love he has for her there.

He smiles. "River Song, you are impossible. But do you want to know something?" He leans in, whispering, "I knew. Oh, Doctor Song, did I know." He kisses her cheek quickly, her jaw.

She bats him away. "You did not, you clueless idiot. You're the densest thing in the galaxy."

"Actually, the densest thing in this particular galaxy is khartoumium, and it's quite unstable. And I knew I smelled hormones somewhere, but I assumed it was just the hospital. This is the fourth floor, is it not? The maternity floor? You see, I was perfectly aware..."

"Oh, were you now? And since when do you know what part-human part-Time Lord chorionic gonadotropin smells like?"

"My nose is magic," he whispers, pressing a quick kiss to her mouth.

The moment of silliness is refreshing, especially after having such dark, worrisome things on her mind only moments ago.

A bolt of fear strikes River again. Her trepidation infects her voice. "Doctor...? Are you... upset? With this, I mean?" She touches her stomach, looking into his eyes. "Disappointed? Angry?" She whispers, "It is your baby."

"Don't be ridiculous, Song. I hadn't a doubt that it is." He kisses her again and presses one large hand to her abdomen, imagining what is taking place there. "Look at you." He smiles. "Look at us. What are we afraid of?" he asks, though the question is hollow. They are both aware of the thousands of threatening species and individuals that they should be fearing currently.

"You know perfectly well, Doctor," River whispers, her voice shaking. She places one of her hands over his on her middle, stepping closer, finally allowing herself to trust him, to trust anyone. Her other arm finds its way around his neck, drawing them closer.

However, she cannot share his ignorant viewpoint, even if it is just a façade. She might be able to pretend for just a moment, such as this one, that there is no danger in all the galaxies, no threat to The Doctor, River herself, or their unborn child bundled within her, but it is fleeting. The reality is that a Child of Time is as desired as the body of an adult Time Lord.

Neither fear their own deaths, nor do they fear the death of each other. But the peril of their baby terrifies them both, no matter what The Doctor pretends to think.

This is the subject of each of their shared stream of thoughts, passing from mind to mind as if they are contained within the same skull. The Doctor attempts to offer comfort to his wife by kissing her again, knowing the effect it can have on her. She kisses him back fiercely now, pouring all of her fears, worries, and disquiet into him.

"There you go, Song," The Doctor whispers, breaking the kiss briefly. "Have no fear; your Doctor is here!"

River smiles. "We make a rubbish pickup crew, you know. We've been gone for over an hour."

"Ah, well I wasn't the one that lead us around the entire sixth floor without an obvious reason, was I?" He taps her nose.

"Ah, well you weren't the one to find out you're carrying a Time Lord alone just moments before, were you?"

"Hmm," he hums. "I like how that sounds, Professor Song," he says in a low voice.

"Oh, Doctor. Don't you think you're a little too old to be talking to a young girl such as I in that way? I'm quite impressionable, you know." She pats his bum as she kisses him quickly once more before beginning to untangle herself from him. "Come, Doctor. The cafeteria is this way."

"I'll follow you wherever you go, Doctor Song," he says, wrapping an arm around her waist as they start down the hallway.


End file.
